


A World All Their Own

by cableknitbowtiesarecool



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cableknitbowtiesarecool/pseuds/cableknitbowtiesarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Doctor leaves Rose on the beach for the second time, her hand locked in another's, what happens? Can Rose adjust to the DonnaDoctor? What happens when the parallel earth is invaded and has no Shadow Proclamation or Time Lord to protect it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, so I haven't done Doctor Who fiction in a long time. This a fairly old piece that I had saved on my computer. I liked it, and I constantly miss David Tennant's Doctor, so I thought I'd give everyone a little reminder of his awesomeness. Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or its characters. I just play.

Rose stood stunned, mouth open, as the grinding of the TARDIS began to fade away. He was gone. Just like that. She hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye, just like the last time she had lost him.

Anger, pain, loneliness, and the creeping abyss of emotional emptiness began to fill her. How could he have just left her after all that she had done to get back to him? He hadn’t even given her a choice. He didn’t care enough to let her try to convince him.

Suddenly, a hand slid into hers, and her heart leapt for a fleeting moment. It was so like the hand that she had held for so long. The hand that had nearly killed her after she’d lost it. Now, it rested tentatively in hers again, offering comfort, companionship, or anything else that she needed from it. However, now that she had it back, Rose wasn’t sure what to do. After all, it felt the same, but it wasn’t. Not really.

She forced a breath before turning. Hazel eyes met her brown, looking out from _his_ face. He wore a neutral expression, but his gaze showed a sadness, naturally. He had just lost Donna, the woman with whom he had traveled, and who had helped create this form for him. More importantly, if he were truly as much like the Doctor as they had claimed, he would be acutely feeling the loss of the TARDIS. But he had chosen to leave it, for her, whether it be because of his feelings or due to his newfound mortality. Either way, the fact that he was there, in whatever form, had to count for something, didn’t it? Still, the lump in Rose’s throat dissolved into tears as she considered that the Doctor had just left her with this carbon copy forever. How could the Doctor expect her to love this Metacrisis as she loved him? She didn’t even feel like she knew him.

A great sob wracked her body. Without hesitation, the man beside her jerked her into a tight embrace, struggling to offer comfort without imposing. He would do anything to make this easier for her. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be presented with a slightly inferior version of the person she had risked her life to be with countless times. He had the same memories, same reasoning skills, same intelligence stores. For all intents and purposes, he was the same man. However, the single pulse in his chest acutely reminded both he and the woman whose head was pillowed into his shoulder that he was not that Doctor, and never could be. He was not even completely the same species. No, he would not be able to comprehend the emotions associated with Rose’s situation.

There was someone on that beach, however, who could understand what it was like. Jackie Tyler stood apart from the two figures clinging to each other, her heart breaking for her daughter. At twenty-three years old, Rose was physically a woman in her own right. Yet, every time that Jackie looked at Rose, she saw a scared child who had had her heart broken, suffered for it, then defied the impossible to mend it. Jackie had stood by and watched it all, feeling helpless as she saw Rose nearly wither and die. Now, her heart leapt at the second chance stretching before her daughter. She could have kissed the Doctor, and would have, had the situation been appropriate. Granted, she understood that it was going to be hard for the couple to accept the situation. It would be harder than it had been for her and Pete, who had no copy traipsing about in another world (at least not one that she had traveled to), and who at least had the exact same DNA as the Pete she had first married. No, it wouldn’t be easy, but she was going to fight for the new Doctor and Rose in any way she could, because she was happy with her alternate Pete, and Rose could be happy too.

After several moments of silent tears, Rose finally began to relax. She took in the smell of the man who held her. She didn’t know if she could think of him as the Doctor yet, not even in her mind. He smelled as she remembered the Doctor smelling, with a hint of something more mundane, more human. It was not an unpleasant alteration, just… different.

The DonnaDoctor’s fingers danced over her back as her breathing began to even out. If one thing was certain, he knew that he loved Rose Tyler, and, unlike his full blooded Time Lord counterpart, he had told her so, and would tell her so at every opportunity should she wish it. He also knew that he would stay with her for the rest of his suddenly short life, if she wanted him there. He had said that as well. If she didn’t want him… then he’d still do anything to make her happy.

Now, she drew back, looking up at him through tears that had tracked makeup down her soft cheeks. It was almost painful to meet his eyes, but she would have to manage. Despite the fact that she wanted to curl into a ball and isolate herself from the whole situation, she recognized, in her heart, that this man had sacrificed for her, that he needed her. She also knew that the Doctor needed her to care for this being, and she would still do anything for the Time Lord if he asked. In spite of the rage behind her eyes caused by the new responsibility, she would keep herself in check. This man was a person, just as she was, and he also struggled. Still, she didn’t know if she could love him without feeling as though she were being unfaithful to the Doctor. She could treat him semi-courteously, but that would be the last hug she would give him until she figured out the tangle of emotions in her mind. Keeping this in mind, she ran the sleeve of her jacket over her damp face, the leather picking up the track marks, and swallowed. Before she could speak, Jackie came forward.

“Pete says he’ll have a helicopter here in a half hour to take us back to London. Until then, we’ll just hang ‘round. Good thing it’s not raining or anything.”

Rose nodded mechanically. “Thanks, Mum.”

Jackie opened her mouth, as if to say more, then thought the better of it and moved back to her spot away from the two.

A silence ensued as each considered what to say to the other. With a trembling voice, Rose elected for small talk. “I, er, work at this world’s Torchwood now. After… the void closed, it took a bit, but I got on okay, I guess.”

He nodded back. “I knew you would. What do you do there?”

Every word that she said felt forced from her lips. She wanted to scream, cry, throw sand. But she could not. Not in front of her mum, and certainly not in front of the man before her. So she made her lips move. “Umm, well after I got here, I had more knowledge on alien species than anyone, so they put me in Extraterrestrial Affairs. We handle artifacts, first contacts, and that sort of stuff. I just couldn’t stand working in the shop. Not after all that all that happened on the TARDIS.”

“You’re much too brilliant to be working in a shop,” he offered. Another silence. Finally, he began, “Rose, I--”

“Just don’t,” she cut in. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I would rather not do this right now.” _Or at all_. “In fact, could I just have a bit?”

He nodded emphatically. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

She didn’t say anything more before she walked briskly over the sand dunes to a familiar rock formation.

The DonnaDoctor stood forlorn in the middle of the beach, watching Rose’s retreating back. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say. So he remained silent, his head buzzing. Jackie Tyler took that opportunity to approach the lone figure.

“Doctor?” The familiar moniker snapped his head towards the sound.

Jackie gave him an easy smile. “You all right, then.”

The Doctor looked fleetingly in the direction in which Rose had disappeared. “To be perfectly honest, Jackie, I dunno.”

She followed his gaze. “Don’t worry,” she cooed. “Rose’ll come ‘round. It’s just hard, you know, at first. But she’ll get there. When I found Pete, it didn’t take me long at all. Now, I’ve got Tony, and I’m happy. Just wait. Rose can be happy with you. I just know it.”

The Doctor forced a weak smile for Jackie’s benefit. He certainly hoped that she knew her daughter as well as she had previously claimed. Until Rose did ‘come ‘round,’ the Doctor would have to play by ear, and remain sensitive to what she might need. If one thing was set in his mind, it was that he wasn’t going to push Rose at all. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of this, and he was sorry that it had happened.

Both Rose and the Doctor worried the sand at Darlig Ulv Stranden with pacing as they worked to acclimate themselves to the difficulties that were already beginning to surface. Nothing had changed in either of them when the helicopter arrived.

Rose heard the chopper blades across the beach. Heaving a sigh, and wiping her already smeared mascara on the sleeve of her leather jacket, she made her way to where Pete Tyler held his wife in a gripping embrace. The not-Doctor stood off to the side, hands stuffed in the pockets of his suit pants. When Rose approached, he seemed to pick up the change in the air and raised his gaze to meet hers. He did not smile and she quickly distracted herself with coming up beside her mother. Pete took notice of her and grinned.

“Hello Rose,” he said, pulling her in for her own hug. Pete had been wonderful about accepting that he had a nineteen year old daughter from an alternate version of himself, and, after the Doctor had left, he had done a capital job at stepping into his protective paternal role. Though it was perhaps partially due to his part in separating the couple, Pete had also become insatiably helpful in the face of Rose’s mental condition. He had employed his resources to get her medical help, both physical and psychological, had gotten her the job at Torchwood, and offered her every luxury he could in an attempt to protect and cheer her. As the calmer of the two parents, especially in the face of Jackie’s heightened hormonal levels before Tony was born, Pete had handled Rose’s outbursts with an amazing understanding. He had, after all, lost his universe’s Jackie and could empathize a bit. Now, the man was as much her father as any.

“Hey, Dad,” she said into his shoulder.

Pete took notice of the Doctor, standing with a hand up, trying to block sand being thrown by the gusts from the chopper blades. He leaned over, calling out, “You’ve no idea how good it is to see you, Doctor.”

The Doctor took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. “Hello again, Pete,” he said, forcing a smile.

Pete opened his mouth, considering saying more, but thought the better of it. Instead, he turned to his family. “Let’s head home, yeah? I know Tony’s going to be ecstatic to see you.” With that, the foursome piled into the chopper.

It took about an hour and a half to reach England, during which time, Pete chattered on about Torchwood, his worries, and Tony.

“So, Doctor,” he said at one point, “I didn’t see that blue box of yours…” he trailed off, letting the question float in the air.

A sense of melancholy filled the Doctor as he felt the absence of the TARDIS’s hum from his mind. It really was so quiet in his new human head. He knew that he had retained dulled versions of his Time Lord senses, such as his sense of time. However, he could no longer make out the drone of the TARDIS or those connected to her. It gave a new understanding to loneliness. The TARDIS had always been there, after every loss--his race, Rose, each companion. His faithful ship. “She’s not here,” he replied solemnly to Pete’s implied query. This was the curse of his humanity: no TARDIS, no mental sense, and a newly shortened life span.

Pete blinked. “You here for good, then,” he asked cautiously, casting a sidelong glance at Rose.

She started to cut in, “Dad, I--”

The Doctor spoke over her. “This form of me is,” he replied dryly.

Pete looked puzzled. “What d’you mean,” he asked.

And so the three--well, more Rose and the Doctor-- explained the Metacrisis that led to the creation of the DonnaDoctor to a mystified Pete. When they had finished, Pete took a breath, processing. “So, there’re two of you, then,” he said finally. “And one of you’s mostly human and planning on staying here in this dimension for good?”

The Doctor nodded. “Essentially, yes.”

“Well, that’s brilliant,” he exclaimed.

Both Rose and the Doctor went silent. He sincerely hoped that Rose would feel the same about the situation eventually, but she wasn’t so sure that she could. Sensing the change in the air, Pete continued onto a new topic. He could understand how difficult it would be for Rose to accept this, and decided that it wasn’t something to dwell on at the moment. “Tony ate all of his broccoli last night, Jacks. I didn’t even have to say anything.”

“Really,” Jackie asked, picking up on her husband’s desire to lighten the mood. “He hates it. Did he put up any kind of a fuss?”

Pete shook his head. “Nope. Said he likes it now. Said he liked that it was like eating trees.”

Jackie laughed. “What are we going to do with him? He’s always getting these mad ideas in his head.”

“I dunno,” Pete answered. “But hey, looks like we’re here.”

They landed on a helipad on the property that Mickey Smith had nicknamed the House of Tyler.

“Your room is just as you left it,” Pete said to Rose as they stepped onto the ground. “Unless Florentine went cleaning crazy. ”

Jackie laughed. “Well, knowing Florentine…”

Pete chuckled, too. “Well, then, your room should at least _resemble_ how you left them. You’re, of course, welcome to stay.”

There was a moment when the Doctor watched Rose as the three began to make their way to the house. She seemed to realize that he had not immediately followed and stopped. “I’ll catch up,” she whispered to her mother and father before falling back.

The Doctor looked uncertain as the house seemed to loom before him. Was he wanted there? Should he go?

“You coming,” she questioned, coming to stand beside him.

He swiveled his head to meet her eyes, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you want me to? I don’t want to push myself on you. I understand if you need space. This is a lot to handle, I suppose.” He stuffed his hands into his pocket.

Rose’s eyes fell for a moment. She knew that she had been a bit cruel on the beach, and he probably didn’t know what to think about where they stood. She was having a hard time accepting this new DonnaDoctor and she still wasn’t sure about him. It was true that this was probably as weird for him as it was for her. Maybe even more so, having been split from the original him, and plopped into TARDISless world. He had told her, in that matter of fact tone, that he loved her, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She didn’t want him to feel that she had essentially taken that statement and thrown it back in his face, even if she didn’t quite return it. Even if he wasn’t exactly the Doctor, she wouldn’t go through life with no form of the Doctor. She needed the Doctor, and if this was the best he could do, she would try. So, Rose Tyler swallowed her own emotions and reached out to offer her hand.

The Doctor regarded the outstretched limb and was reminded of the Christmas of his most recent regeneration, when he had been unsure of her feelings on traveling with him after he had changed his face. Just as he had on that night, the Doctor grinne, and seized her hand. Though it felt slightly off to Rose, she gave him a weak smile and pulled him along in the direction of her home. Something inside of her told her to drop the hand, that this wasn’t right, but she forced herself to beat the feeling down.


	2. Chapter 2

Almost the moment that they stepped through the door, a tiny voice called out, “Rose!” The sound was followed by a little blur that ran and collided with the woman in question.

Rose plastered on a smile. “Hey, Tony. How’s my big boy?”

“You were gone longer than you said. You said only a week. That’s seven days. It’s been three months. That’s ninety days. Silly,” the precocious child crossed his arms and stared at her, accusatory. The boy had mouse brown hair, the color that the Doctor could see peeking through Rose’s hair dye. Tony also had Rose’s eyes staring out from Pete’s facial structure. His chubby legs hugged Rose’s hip as she lifted him, and the Doctor felt a flare of jealousy. _Impromptu sex drive_ , he thought. _That’s new._ He swallowed hard and shook his head. There was no way he could let himself think like that. In the TARDIS, he had, admittedly, thought of Rose that way, but would never have acted on it. Sex with companions was never allowed.

“Who taught you those kinds of numbers,” Rose asked Tony.

He smiled proudly, “Florentine said we could count the Sundays that you weren’t here, then multiply by seven. But don’t forget the hangsies, add them too. We used a calculator. I got to push the buttons.”

“Ooh,” Rose cooed, falsely impressed. Tony grinned, before his gaze slid over his sister’s shoulder to fall upon the Doctor’s face.

“Who’s that,” he whispered, as if Rose didn’t know that the Doctor was behind her.

Rose turned. She hadn’t really considered introducing the Doctor to her three year old sibling. She had never thought that she would need to, considering that they should be on the TARDIS and Tony should be in the parallel universe, unfortunately lost to her. She took a breath. Both were watching her expectantly. Finally, Rose said, “Tony, this is my… friend…” Another hesitation. Could she say it?

She waited too long and Tony took the reins. “Hello, Rose’s friend. My name’s Anthony Michael Tyler, but you can call me Tony. What’s your name?”

The Doctor smiled. He adored children, as Rose had seen the summer of the 2012 Olympics. “Well, Anthony Michael Tyler, you can call me Doctor.”

“Doctor’s not a name,” Tony countered.

The Doctor laughed. “Well, it’s my name. How do you know Tony’s a name?”

“My mummy picked it at the hospital when I came here.”

“Well, my mummy picked Doctor.” It wasn’t true, of course, but it would serve his purposes.

Tony seemed to accept the explanation as well and held out a chubby hand, as Pete had taught him to do when meeting adults. “Nice to meet you, Doctor. You have pointy hair.”

“Tony,” Rose snapped, finally reentering the conversation.

“Now, Rose, don’t scold him,” the Doctor gasped between guffaws. “He’s probably right. I rather like this tiny human.” He reached out to take the offered hand, which the boy pulled back.

“I’m _not_ tiny,” Tony huffed with a childish indignance. “I’m big.”

“My apologies, big Tony,” the Doctor conceded.

At that point, Tony gave a laugh and moved to shimmy out of Rose’s arms. She kept her grasp on him. “Isn’t it somebody’s bedtime?”

“No,” Tony said, snapping immediately to attention.

“I think it is. Look at the clock. 6:30. Definitely bedtime.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t wanna go to bed! The sun’s not even down!”

“Anthony Michael Tyler,” said Rose, a warning in her voice.

The Doctor simpered playfully, “Now, Mister, you’ve brought out your sister’s stern face.”

Tony giggled as the Doctor earned a glare of his own. Rose did not let up. “Go on now. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The little boy seemed to accept this, and yawned before getting down and padding off to find his mother, who seemed to have disappeared within the great expanse of the house. Rose turned to the DonnaDoctor. “I figured that we’d stay here tonight. I have my own place not too far from here that I’ll show you tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Brilliant.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Right. So… did you want some tea?”

“Sure,” he replied brightly, following her already retreating back.

The kitchen was enormous, containing all the luxury of anyone’s dream kitchen. The Doctor watched as Rose puttered around the area, gathering the necessary materials for the tea. She appeared to move as though expecting an attack at any point: very jumpy and almost braced for impact. As she put the kettle on, Rose turned from him with a loud sigh. He watched as she began to shake minutely. He could also make out the taste of salt in the air due to the half Time Lord senses. Tears. Instantly, he was on his feet. “Rose,” he called gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Rose Tyler, look at me. Please.”

It was his voice pleading with her, and she knew that, if she were to turn, she would see his face. But it wasn’t him. Rose could barely contain the sob that bubbled up in her throat. How could this really be happening?

He was not going to let up. This needed to be addressed if they were ever going to move forward. “Please, Rose,” he repeated, applying pressure to make her turn. There were more mascara tracks. “I know this is hard. I can’t imagine how hard.” He tilted her chin up so that he could see her eyes. “And I know that you worked so hard to get back the TARDIS. But he can’t give you what you want from him. Eventually, you would have had to go again. That’s the fate of a Time Lord’s companion. But me, I can give you all that he wanted to. All that you deserve,” The Doctor took a breath, surprised by the small lump forming in his throat. He wanted to stop and just hold her, but he wasn’t done. As much as he wished he could be the Time Lord she wanted, he couldn’t and she needed to see why that could be a good thing. So he continued. “Rose Tyler, the woman who defied physics, who braved the Void. He loves you. And because I was made from him, because he and I have the same emotions, same mind, same memories, that means that I love you too. And I’ll _never_ let you forget it.” He smiled. “You’ll hear it as often as you want and more. But, like I said on the beach, I can spend my life with you _if you want_. I’m not the full blooded Time Lord with the TARDIS that can take you through time and space. All I can offer is me. He wanted to give you the chance to have some form of him, thinking that I was better than nothing. But, if my being here makes it worse, then I’ll go.”

“No,” she sobbed, hands taking a claw like grip in the sleeves of his suit jacket. She didn’t know if she could love him just yet, but if this Doctor left too, then she felt sure that she would never survive. The only reason she had before was because of the hope that she could get back to him. But now, he had _chosen_ to leave her. There was none of that old hope, and the idea of never having any Doctor made her throat constrict. Her breaths came fast as she began to hyperventilate. “Don’t leave! You can’t!” Her eyes bored into his, the volatile expression in them alarming the Doctor. “You said you’d stay! Forever!” The level of hysteria in Rose’s voice brought Jackie running to the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway. “Rose?” Jackie hadn’t seen her daughter cry like this for at least a year. Not since she had closed herself off emotionally from the rest of the world. Now, in the Doctor’s arms, Rose was coming undone. The confusion, hurt, rage, and fear was coming together to cause a panic attack three years in the making.

The Doctor’s hands fluttered around her face and hair as he watched her struggle to breathe. “Rose, you need to relax. I’m not going anywhere. Breathe, Rose.” He was beginning to panic.

She, herself, was growing alarmed as the tears burned down her face and the air wouldn’t come. Her limbs began to shake so badly that her knees would no longer support her. As she fell, the Doctor caught her up easily before turning to Jackie, who was frozen in the doorway. “Where’s her room,” the Doctor demanded through Rose’s vice grip on his neck. He had to get her relaxed before he joined her.

“Upstairs,” Jackie croaked.

“Show me.” He followed her to the room at the top of the stairs and he quickly placed Rose on the bed in the center. “Rose,” he said roughly through her sobs and gasps. “Listen to me. You need to breathe. I’m not going anywhere. You just need to relax. I’m right here.” As if by example, he inhaled deeply and exhaled as deeply, his breath cooling her face. “We’ve got these two bags in our chests that expand and contract when we take in oxygen and expel carbon dioxide. They’re called lungs. Use them.” He babbled on about them nervously as he continued to breathe deeply.

Rose felt as if she had had the wind knocked out of her as she struggled to take in a few breaths as he had instructed. She could see the concerned faces of her mother and father in the doorway, and the Doctor’s above her on the bed. This had never happened before. She had always been able to breathe and control herself. She had done it even when she had been on the edge of insanity three years ago. She had to get it together. She couldn’t allow herself to have a fit like this, not when there were people around who would worry. Slowly, she drew in sips of air until the great sobs subsided to little shivering breaths and the tears fell steadily, as opposed to sporadically through clenched eyelids.

“Good,” the Doctor asked her, taking her hand gently. He gave a great sigh, realizing that he had been holding his own breath after he had stopped talking.

She nodded slowly. The Doctor turned to her white faced mother. “Good,” he repeated, reassuring Jackie before turning back to Rose. “You need to rest, Rose. You’ve been through a lot. It can’t be good for your genetic makeup to casually hop dimensions, face Daleks, and then this major stress. Forget the tea. Just sleep.”

He rose, flipping off the light. However, as he turned to leave, Rose called out softly. “Stay with me. Please.” There was no way that she was going to close her eyes without the guarantee that he would be beside her when she opened them. She could fool herself into believing that this was the Doctor for the sake of her sanity. It would only be for one night.

“Rose, I--” he started.

“Please,” she said again. She needed the comfort and closeness that she had always craved from the Doctor. All the times that she had longed to lay beside him on the TARDIS came to the surface. It hadn’t always been about desire and attraction. Often, it had been innocent. She had wanted to feel safe in his arms, close to his body.

It was all that she needed to say to convince the DonnaDoctor, who closed the door, casting the room in utter darkness, before joining her on the double bed. They faced each other, and she could smell him: his Doctor smell mixed with the newness of his humanity. For now, she focused on the former. She needed to rest, to get through these harsh emotions that threatened to drown her. She hadn’t gotten restful sleep since the day she had lost him the first time and her body craved it.

The moon shone through the window, enabling them to see one another. The Doctor reached out a hand and cautiously wiped away a few tears that still lingered on Rose’s cheeks. She wanted to bask in his touch, but a thought in her mind stopped her. She was being unfaithful to the Doctor, the _true_ Doctor. The one on the TARDIS. But then, she had been unfaithful to him with Mickey when the Doctor had first left her, letting her old boyfriend hold her and comfort her. And she had never been his to be unfaithful to in any case. Now, this man who was the Doctor but not the Doctor, was offering sweet comfort. She needed it that night. So she forced her thoughts to subside and pushed close to him, her face pillowed in his chest.

The Doctor knew that this was probably temporary, that it would take more time to get her to accept him, if she ever did. For now, he was content to be anything but an annoyance to her. So when she molded her body to his, he wrapped his arms around her waist the way that he had longed to since even before his regeneration. This was more than just a friendly hug. Much more. He buried his face in her hair and listened as she drifted to sleep. Only when the room was silent and he could hear nothing in the house apart from the steady breathing of sleeping humans, did he allow himself the luxury of slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning found Rose waking in the Doctor’s arms. His face was peaceful as he slept and his grasp secured her to him. Rose took the time to study his face. She had missed the delicate features, especially the hazel eyes. He was the only man she had ever met that could be both beautiful and ruggedly handsome at once. And he had great hair. Such great hair. Now, as she studied him, she considered the soft brown strands and reached out gingerly to touch them.

Already Rose felt her heart go out to him as he snuggled into her hand. He really was so much like the Doctor. But, having learned from the Time Lord himself, Rose knew that humans had enormous flaws, flaws that the Doctor hadn’t had. Would the human genes change the DonnaDoctor where it really mattered? Or would his Time Lord half win out? Rose knew that she couldn’t be angry with this man in her bed simply because he wasn’t full Time Lord, or simply because she wished that she was on the TARDIS. After her panic attack and the tenderness with which he had handled it, Rose’s doubts on his goodness faded a little. Still, she couldn’t open herself to him. Not until she knew that he would act as the Doctor would where it really mattered, because it was the Doctor’s compassion and capacity to fight for those who had been wronged with little regard for himself that largely contributed to her falling in love with him. If those things were different in this man, he could not be the Doctor, and, therefore, she could not love him.

The Doctor felt Rose’s fingers in his hair as he came to. Next came the scent of her skin. Rose was not the only one who associated certain smells with a specific person. On several occasions, the Doctor had caught a whiff of lavender or honeysuckle and been instantly transported to a time he spent with Rose. Now, after three years of missing it, he breathed deeply. No one smelled like Rose. Finally, after having his fill, the Doctor opened his eyes to meet a soft brown gaze.

“Morning,” he said cautiously. He hadn’t slept like this since his regeneration, thinking it to be a waste of time when there was so much else he could be doing. He had simply eaten and used his the control he had over his metabolism to transform the food into energy. He was surprised that he had woken after Rose, even if he was human now.

Rose jumped, having become lost in her thoughts. Quickly, she pulled back her hand from his hair, as if touching it brought her pain. After all, she couldn’t just forget what she knew because his voice sounded the same, he smelled similar, and he looked like the Doctor.

The Doctor felt her jerk away and had to struggle to repress a sigh. He had known it would take more than a night for her to wake up, remember, and be okay with the situation. Still, he found himself wishing it didn't. _Silly race and their silly emotions_ , he thought, before realizing that the assertion now applied, in part, to him. When would he start to experience human emotions the same way that they did? Had he already? This whole situation was confusing even to him. He couldn’t imagine what it might be like for beings of lesser intelligence.

“Morning.” Rose’s voice snapped him back to reality. She pushed away from him, lifting herself into a sitting position. The Doctor followed suit, moving to the side of the bed and rising purposefully.

“Are you feeling better,” he questioned. The conversation had already started out on an awkward note, and the long silences between statements and inquiries were not doing anything to ameliorate the situation.

She looked away as she got to her feet. “Fine,” she said, a little more snappishly than she might have perhaps intended. The Doctor bit back a wince at the harshness of her tone and rose from his side of the bed. His suit was rumpled, and his shoes, which he had neglected to remove, had come untied.

There was another silence, during which the Doctor made no move, unsure of where they stood. What he longed to do was take her hand as she had taken his the night before. But, despite the intimate sharing of beds and her general acceptance of him into her family home, Rose still seemed wary and distant.

Finally, she glanced around as if searching for something to say before settling on, “I should get to work.”

“At Torchwood,” he asked lamely.

“Yeah,” she answered. There was a pause until she added, “You should probably come with me. I mean, if you want to.”

He nodded. His knowledge stores would probably be least wasted there, and, despite his distaste for the institution in the past, he guessed that he didn’t really have a huge array of options before him. Still, he had hoped that he would have a few days with Rose so that they could get their bearings, so that he could prove to her that it was okay to open up again.

“Right,” she said, “I’ll just get the car.” She left the room, making no indication as to whether or not he should follow. As he saw no other reason to remain there, he did so anyway. Rose had changed in the time away from him. There was no doubt. In fact, as he took in the leather jacket, dark jeans, boots, and pink jumper peeking out from the bottom of her coat, he felt a wave of familiarity. She looked rather like he had when they had first met. At Torchwood, she had gone from a broken twenty year old girl to a conflict hardened twenty-three year old woman who was handy with a weapon. _That’s me when we first met_. The thought unnerved him a bit, but he brushed it off. It didn’t matter how she had changed. She was still his Rose. No matter what.

Just before they left, the Doctor felt the unfamiliar physical pressure in his lower abdomen that indicated that he had to use the restroom. Fascinated, he headed off to do so, while Rose sat with Tony on the couch as he watched a program on the telly.

“You know,” Tony said. “He’s really nice.”

Rose turned her eyes to him. “I guess he is.”

“Mum told me you were sick last night and that he made you better. That’s nice.”

“Right,” Rose said, training her eyes on the cartoon playing on the screen.

“You should be nice to him, too,” Tony asserted. “I think he likes you.”

Rose nodded. For someone so young, he had a funny way of being right. It just couldn’t be that simple.


	4. Chapter 4

As he followed behind Rose and Pete, the Doctor noted that the Torchwood facililties were as top of the line as he remembered. The two spoke rapidly about what it would take to get the Doctor established as a citizen of the United Kingdom, as well as as a member of the company. “He’ll need an identity,” Pete remarked, glancing back at the Doctor, who was, admittedly, skulking at the prospect of being ignored. He was unused to taking a passive role in any sort of decision making and it only strengthened his awareness that he was not on the TARDIS anymore. Swallowing hard, he pushed away the burgeoning idea that it was because he should not exist that he had no TARDIS and no space and time to explore.

He replaced self pity with half hearted indignation. “What’s wrong with ‘the Doctor,’” he demanded of the two in front of him.

Rose turned and replied, “You can’t just be ‘Doctor,’ without any sort of last name. Like Tony said: Doctor’s not really a name.”

“I’ve not been called anything else for nearly nine centuries.” He didn’t know why he was pushing this, as he had taken alia when necessary to blend in. However, for some reason, losing ‘Doctor’ felt like he was losing all ties to the Time Lord half of himself, the man he used to be; the man he still was. Rose hadn’t even directly called him by his name since he been left behind with her. She had really only talked at him. He figured if he lost the name, nothing would stop her from completely ceasing to see him as that man at all.

Rose failed to absorb the whirling of the gears in his head and the fear behind his eyes. All she saw was his infamous pigheadedness. This was so...Doctor. But the hard reality was, it wasn’t. She swallowed the forming lump in her throat at the thought and tried again. “Look, we can have you set up with a PHD, so people’ll call you that anyway. Most the people here at Torchwood who’ve talked to me know about you, so it probably wouldn’t even be that different.” She was starting to grow impatient. “And I don’t see the big deal, anyway. You’ve been loads of different people, ‘John Smith.’”

His eyes fell, an expression that Rose felt in her core but did not acknowledge. She couldn’t feel sorry for him. That was the first step. “I only meant to use that temporarily when necessary,” he tried a final time.

“It’s just for the records,” Rose countered.

Pete watched their banter, struggling to keep back a grin. Even if his daughter didn’t know it yet, this new Doctor was going to be a good thing. There were already emotions creeping back through the hard, protective shell that Rose had created. Even if anger and irritation were the first ones. Still, Pete couldn’t help but feel a stab of sympathy at the wounded puppy look reflected in the Doctor’s eyes each time that she snapped at him.

Finally, the Doctor gave up with a sigh. “All right. I’ll be John Smith for the records. But Doctor is what I’ll be called.” He looked at her, as if pleading. He so wanted her to say his name, even if she were using it in fury.

No such luck. “Fine. Good,” she said. “We’ll get your papers and stuff later tonight.” For a moment, Rose lingered on her inability to call him Doctor, something of which she was also acutely aware. She had elected not to use it. This man wasn’t the Doctor, not to her. This was a man who had his face. She didn’t know if he would ever be the Doctor to her. If she were to use the title, it would feel wrong, unfaithful, as usual.

Pete broke in. “If that’s settled, I’ll have you legalized immediately. Rose, show him around the place, especially the EAC center. His office’ll be between yours and Mickey’s. Speaking of which, when should I expect that rogue back her? Where did he get off to? Because he obviously wasn’t on the beach.”

Rose gave him a pained look. The Doctor noticed the sadness and stepped up to inform Pete of Mickey’s decision to stay behind and make his mark in his original universe. “He was a good man, that Mickey Smith.”

Pete nodded. He had suspected something like this when he hadn’t heard from Rose’s friend the moment that they had arrived in Norway. He supposed that he had just wanted it confirmed. “Tony’ll be crushed,” he remarked before his eyes darkened a bit. “Who’s gonna tell Jake?”

Finally, Rose raised her voice. “I’ll do it.”

“That’d probably be best,” Pete agreed. “Damn. It’s gonna kill him.”

The Doctor remembered the rebel soldier who had helped him and Rose during the Cybermen invasion. He had liked Jake. He was cheeky. “Why,” he asked.

“Rose’ll explain,” Pete replied before adding, “Rose, I want you in my office after you get the Doctor settled.”

“Okay,” Rose replied, all business.

With that, Rose and the Doctor were left alone. He waited expectantly for the promised explanation. Rose sighed. “Jake had a bloke, Ricky. Remember?”

The Doctor nodded. “Mickey’s alternate self. Bit more plucky, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah. When he died, Micks sort of took Ricky’s place as Jake’s best friend and the leader of the rebel team until Torchwood was cleaned out. By the time that me and mum got stuck here, it was pretty obvious that Mickey had filled... other roles of Ricky’s. But he never really wanted to admit it. I asked him once, not too long ago. He dodged the question and avoided me for a week.”

The Doctor understood. “So, Mickey and Jake were…?”

“We thought that they were together, but obviously Mickey wasn’t as close to Jake as we believed him to be, or he didn’t want to come to terms with it. I dunno. I think he’s kind of a prat for just leaving Jake here. Now, I’m just worried how Jake’ll take it.”

“It’s tough to lose something so important,” the Doctor whispered, his eyes boring into hers.

Rose turned away. “Yeah,” she forced out. Tough didn’t even begin to describe how it had been for her after she had lost the Doctor. How dare this doppelganger bring it up? What right did he have to transport her back to three years ago? “Even tougher when they _choose_ to leave you alone,” she added bitterly, her voice barely breaking.

The Doctor’s heart sank. _You’re not alone_ , he thought. _I’m here_. He wished with all of his being that that would someday be enough for her. _I stayed, and I will always stay_. Out loud, he started with, “Rose, I--”

“Don’t,” she snapped, just as she had when he tried on the beach, and shrugged her shoulders away from him. He couldn’t possibly understand what she was mentally beating back. “Let’s meet some of your future colleagues,” she added stiffly, hating herself for thinking of the past. It was over. The Doctor didn’t want her there. So she was stuck with this copy for the rest of her life, a job given to her by a man who had sent her away. It was a responsibility she was sure that she didn’t want.

“All right,” the Doctor said, his voice tight. He would not get emotional in front of her. She obviously didn’t want any of it. And yet, he wondered why she hadn’t told him to sod off. It was that hope that pushed him to follow her into what he recognized as the main Torchwood building. His eyes immediately trained on it. _The Wall_. The source of his hearts’ destruction, back when he had had two. Now, as he remembered losing her as acutely as she did each time she passed it, he longed, for the umpteenth time, to feel of her tiny hand in his. However, he knew that, should he reach for it, it would be denied him. She had taken his hand the other night, but he had sensed that she had been too shell shocked still to snub him outside of the Tyler Estate. He wondered if he would ever again hold her like he had last night in her bed, content just to breathe in the scent of her hair, her flawless skin. The Doctor’s face crumbled before he reached for his best defense mechanism. He plastered on a manic grin before saying, “let’s not dwell on that, now,” and took a few quick steps ahead of her. Normally, he would have never been so dismissive. She had no idea how many times he had brought the TARDIS back to this very same spot while Donna or Martha slept. How could she? He’d never told her how important she was to him. He hadn’t even attempted until it was much too late.

Rose’s heart constricted. She knew the Doctor, and if this man had the same kind of reactions as the Time Lord had, that smile, so big and bright, hid pain and heartache. She’d seen him do just that when things had gotten to him emotionally, and then nothing would infiltrate that forced ball of bubbly happiness he had crafted to protect himself. With the realization that the sight of the Wall drew him to his coping mechanism, something surrounding and hardening her heart cracked a tiny bit.

As she drew farther into the room, the pairs of eyes that had been fixed on computer monitors all trained on her. These were the deskies, as Mickey had called them. They took in what was around them, had minimal training, and stayed out of the field. However, when something exciting happened, the deskies were known to swarm like moths drawn to light. This was precisely what happened as the daughter of Torchwood’s director came in. She had jumped universes and they had all seen the renewed sense of purpose that transformed her from the wilted flower of a girl, to the wolf in search of her mate. They had fed on her energy as though it would sustain them.

“Rose, you’re back,” one called. That was it took. The room erupted in an excitement that was palpable.

“I knew you’d fixed things when the earthquakes stopped. There was a pool going on whether you’d be back at all.”

“Wait,” one said, “if you’re back, does that mean that you didn’t find him?”

“Find who? That Doctor fellow?”

Rose struggled to get a word in, searching desperately for a way out, when one of the male deskies stepped forward and shouted, “Enough people, remember protocol, for God’s sake!”

The man’s exclamation worked, however grudgingly, and the little crowd dispersed and moved back to its place. The man grinned and turned to Rose. “Who’s this bloke, then, Rosie,” he asked her playfully. The Doctor immediately didn’t like him. He was a pretty boy with a too strong chin. And _Rosie_? Who did this guy think he was? Captain Jack Harkness? He _did_ resemble the human time agent slightly. As the Doctor remembered how Rose had been with Jack, he bristled. _The blond is spoken for_ , he remembered declaring to Jack firmly. “I’m the _Doctor_ ,” he said pointedly, eliciting a gasp from the still prying ears, followed by a series of whispers.

The pretty boy grinned. “Well, Doc, I’ve heard loads about you.” He seized the Doctor’s hand and pumped it. “I’m Gawain O’Brady.”

Gawain. Just perfect. “Gawain,” the Doctor repeated. “Named after the Green Knight, by any chance?” He fixed the scientist with a look.

Gawain, for his part, looked surprised. “Well… yeah, actually. My mother’s a history professor at a little university outside of Cardiff. She loves King Arthur. My sister’s Elaine.”

“Ah,” the Doctor said, nodding. “The lady of Shallot?”

Gawain laughed. “Exactly.”

“Great lady, her,” the Doctor said. “Ever faithful and respected.” He knew by experience, he had met her before.

Gawain nodded before turning to Rose. “Can I expect you at the pub for a celebratory pint, then,” he asked her. He leaned over to whisper something more in Rose’s ear, drawing a surprising snort of laughter as she smacked Gawain away. “Not a chance will that happen,” she said firmly. “And I don’t know about drinks, Gawain. I just got back and… you know…”

“Nosh, Missus,” Gawain challenged. “What better way to decompress than a night out?”

The Doctor watched the exchange with jealously. This man, this _Gawain_ , had made Rose laugh when the Doctor had been trying desperately to get something little better than a neutral expression.

Rose giggled again as Gawain said something else so that only she could hear it. The Doctor cleared his throat pointedly. Rose, hearing the sound, gave a cough, as if she could mask her laugh. “I’ll have to get back to you about the pub, Gawain. I just dunno yet.”

“Well, you know we’ll be there, if you figure it out.”

Rose turned stiffly to the Doctor, who had shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “Come on, I’ll show you the offices where we work.”

“Good to meet you, Gawain,” the Doctor forced out, trying to keep his notorious possessive streak in check.

“You, too,” he replied, cheerfully heading back to his desk.

 

The offices in the Extraterrestrial Artifacts and Contact Affairs department were cozy, with state of the art computers and identifier devices. The Doctor was most excited, however, not by the tiny office that he would occupy in his days here, but by the enormous warehouse connected to it. It was bursting with catalogued alien tech and some unidentified objects. He flitted about, excited for the first time since the TARDIS had left him on the beach with Rose. He was like a man sized hummingbird as he lifted one object after another and prattled on about them.

“Where on Earth did you find a Thessalamauchan Energy Flux,” he asked, lifting it gingerly.

Rose couldn’t fight the building smile that struggled to break onto her face. He had done this so many times. No matter where they had landed and what they had seen, he had always been excited by alien tech and new experiences. Another crack broke through her reserve. “We found it around Berlin,” she replied. “Torchwood Germany transferred it to us when we…” she trailed off. He was in that mode where he heard nothing that anyone said. He was too absorbed in what his hands were lifting, stroking, and twirling around.

“And this,” he exclaimed, “this is brilliant, this is.”

“You know what it is,” she asked him eagerly, his excitement catching. “We’ve been trying to figure it out for months. At first when I saw it, I thought it was…” she stopped. She’d thought it was a sonic screwdriver. It was a the long thin metal shaft covered with buttons that emitted a bluish light at the tip when you pushed them, so she had been so sure. It had been tough to think about for a long while.

The Doctor turned, too excited to notice her discomfort. “Rose, don’t be daft. Of course I know what it is. I know everything.”

Rose scoffed playfully, forgetting that she was supposed to hate him. Nobody could be as arrogant as the Doctor and still be endearing. Well, mostly endearing. “Then what is it, Mr. Impressive?”

He grinned. “It’s a sonic illuminator.”

“Ha,” Rose exclaimed. “I knew it was sonic. Jake owes me ten quid!”

“Rose,” the Doctor plowed on. “Do you realize what this means?”

“That Jake’s gonna buy me chips,” she joked. She hadn’t had a good plate of chips in almost a week.

“No. I means that with a bit-- all right, a lot-- of jiggery pokery, I could have a sonic screwdriver again!” His eyes were lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

To his surprise, Rose smiled. It was a small smile, but there was a definite upturning of lips. “That’s wonderful,” she said softly. As opposed to his presence as she was in the face of the real Doctor’s absence, she knew how much the sonic meant to any form of him. The thought of him brandishing the sonic screwdriver to open doors, or to light the way, or for really anything, as there seemed to be no limit to the tool’s abilities, truly did make her happy. Perhaps the presence of a sonic screwdriver would make him feel more at home and make Rose feel more at home around him.

She watched as he grabbed a long pointed object, what looked like a tiny gear or wheel, and the Energy Flux. Rose followed him into his newly assigned office, where he unabashedly shoved the keyboard on the desk aside and flicked on the little lamp. Just as he had laid out his supplies, Rose hated to stop him. “Wait,” she said. “You can’t just take it.”

He stopped, his expression crestfallen. “Why not,” he asked.

“Well,” she said lamely. “It’s Torchwood property.”

“Who says,” he countered, his lower lip poking out in a bit of a pout. Rose was surprised to feel a familiar fluttering in her stomach that hadn't flared up for at least three years. Were her heart as open as it once was, she wouldn’t have been surprised by the flash of herself sucking that lip in her mouth, but now, with all of the warning bells that her brain had been giving off, she began to panic.

“We found it,” she snapped. “It’s in the catalogue.”

“That doesn’t mean it belongs to them,” he countered. Couldn’t she see that this meant a lot to him? A sonic screwdriver would bring a little comfort where she had yet to. He had no TARDIS, he had no time and space travel, and at this moment, he had no Rose. This was the first thing that he _would_ have.

“Actually, according to protocol, that’s exactly why it’s ours.” She felt that she was being cruel and that he was crushed by what she was saying, but she had to get away from the image of kissing him. She had done it once, on the beach, but it had been to show the Time Lord Doctor what he was missing. It had been to convince him that he couldn’t leave her. It was part of the reason that she could barely bring herself to look at the DonnaDoctor now. How could her mutinous body not punish her for wasting her final moments with the Doctor by snogging his human clone instead of fighting harder?

The Doctor took in her flashing eyes and sighed heavily. Admitting defeat, he took up the sonic illuminator and held it out to Rose at arm’s length, eyes downcast. He obviously meant for her to take it.

Rose couldn’t bear to see such an expression on the face that she loved. Even if the man who wore it was not the original, it was still his face. Her heart tightened. “I… suppose it could go missing from the Archives. That happens every once and a while.” She gently pushed his arm back towards his body, trying not to feel a visceral reaction to touching his skin.

His head snapped up. “Really, Rose,” he asked her, a surprising level of emotion in his voice.

“I don’t see why not,” she answered.

“Thank you,” he cried, and, without thinking, jerked her in for a tight hug. Rose stiffened. He smelled so similar to her Doctor and the warmth of his grip almost had her burrowing into his chest. Although her brain again screamed at her, there was no denying the heat she felt pooling in her stomach at the close contact, as it always did with the Doctor. He noticed the change in her posture and released her almost roughly. “Er… that is… thanks,” he struggled out, his hand rubbing the back of his neck fiercely.

“No problem,” she said, turning away. Her stomach flared as she smelled him on her clothes. She shook it off, giving a visible sigh. It was wrong to like his smell, to want his arms back around her waist. She felt disloyal. The Doctor was out there, and this man was not him. It didn’t seem to matter that she would never see the Doctor again. “You just have to promise not to tell anyone.” In her two years at Torchwood, Rose had never broken protocol. In fact, she had been the model officer. Perhaps she didn’t care as much because the only reason that she had signed on with the institute in the first place was so that she could exploit their resources to get back to the Doctor. Now that she had found him and had lost him for good, she didn’t feel the need to adhere so closely to the rules.

“Of course not,” the Doctor answered. “I can keep a secret.” He was obviously trying to lighten the mood. He hadn’t meant to make Rose feel pressured by embracing her. He was just unused to the different dynamic that they had now that he was half human.

There was a pregnant pause as Rose floundered for what to do next. A part of her begged her to flee. She was so messed up, because, although she would run to the Doctor over this man, there was now a newly forming fear of abandonment nestled underneath all of the pain. In a dawning realization, Rose understood that the Doctor had left her. And he had done it before. Even if she did manage to let the DonnaDoctor in, she worried that there would forever be a gnawing fear of being left behind at the first sign of trouble.

Despite this newfound trepidation, the other part of Rose Tyler demanded that she get out of her own way. Donna had been ecstatic at the idea of leaving the Metacrisis with Rose. She had obviously viewed it as a great gift from the Doctor to his most beloved companion, whom he had known would need to return to the parallel universe the moment that this second him had run from the TARDIS for the first time. Now here she was, squandering this gift in an attempt to remain faithful to the man who had given it to her. The man she loved. Did the Doctor truly want her to love this new him, or was this some kind of test of fidelity? Her brain spun as her heart begged her to run to the figure before her, and let him love her like he had promised that he would.

The decision was yet unmade and her brain was drowning in questions when her mobile went off. She was almost thankful for the annoying buzz of the vibration. “Hey, Dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Rose,” came the voice of Pete Tyler through the receiver. “We have a situation on the Thames. Code Orange.”

Her eyes widened. Orange was the second most serious of the code colors. It meant that an unknown species of potentially hostile origins had landed somewhere in England. “Really,” she asked in disbelief. Code Oranges were so rare that Rose had to admit to being a little floored.

“Really. Can you get down there?”

This was not good. Pete only called upon his daughter to deal with serious field work when the situation was extremely volatile and he thought that they might need her knowledge more so than any other expert’s. He didn’t like to trigger memories that depressed Rose, but she was the best, and he sometimes needed the best. Rose was prepared, of course, “Where on the Thames,” she questioned.

“I’ve already got Jake waiting for you. He’s got the coordinates. And Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring the Doctor,” Pete urged. “He needs the field experience.”

In any other situation, Rose would have laughed. _The Doctor_ needed field experience? More likely, Pete thought that the Doctor would be able to handle the situation, as he had handled countless dangerous issues with extraterrestrials. “Dad,” she said, “he doesn’t have clearance.” She gave a sidelong glance towards the man in question. He was watching her, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. She gave a wave of her hand that bid him to follow her. They made their way to the lift as she continued talking to Pete.

“He does,” Pete replied. “I gave Jake his ID. He’s got it in the car. No more questions, Rose. I need you on this. Good luck,” he said abruptly.

“But, Dad--” Rose attempted to cut in.

The line went dead and Rose hung up her mobile with a frustrated huff. The Doctor had no knowledge of how Torchwood handled things.

“What’s going on,” the Doctor questioned as Rose continued to lead the way out of the lift and into the parking garage.

“We’ve got a first contact situation,” Rose replied.

“Already,” the Doctor questioned incredulously. “How often does this happen in this universe?”

“About once or twice every three or four months,” she replied. “Mostly on a small scale. Usually they’re just passing through. But this is Code Orange. My dad never asks me to go to the scene unless the situation is unstable. They figure that I’m the best on alien tech and identification, because of my time with the… my time in the TARDIS.” She had been about to say “my time with the Doctor,” but had stopped herself in time. It would be a slap in the face to the DonnaDoctor if she said such a thing. He supposedly had the same memories as the Doctor, and it would be as if she were mentioning her time on the TARDIS as though he knew nothing about it. She had no doubt that it would hurt his feelings, and, for some reason, that bothered her. “Code Orange means we’ve never seen the type of ship before, and we’ve no idea what the aliens plan to do.”

“Oh goody,” the Doctor said sarcastically, letting the bit of Donna’s personality show through. “A potential alien threat. Just like old times.” He had caught the lapse in her speech. It shouldn’t surprise him that she didn’t think of him as the Doctor, as she had yet to call him that or treat him at all like the man that he still was. He knew that his sarcasm could be construed as rude, but they had established a long time ago that this regeneration had a propensity for rudeness.

Rose stayed silent. _It would be like old times_ , she thought harshly, _if you were the full blooded Doctor and we had just stepped out of the TARDIS_. How was she supposed to know if she could trust this man in a dangerous situation, especially if he was as volatile as the Doctor had let on?


	5. Chapter 5

Just as Pete had said, an unmarked Torchwood van was waiting for them in the parking garage. As the two approached, the window descended to reveal a familiar face. The Doctor took in the spiky blond hair and blue eyes as Jake Simmonds grinned. “Hello there, Doctor. Long time no see. Good to see you found him,” he added to Rose as they climbed into the van, Rose in the passenger seat and the Doctor in the back. Rose said nothing as she situated herself.

“Okay, Jake,” Rose said as the vehicle pealed out of the lot. “Give me the details.”

“At fourteen hundred, an unknown vessel careened through the atmosphere, struck an anchored zeppelin, and was seen crash landing on the East bank of the Thames. It has yet to yield ETs. The people are all crowded around the rails like a gaggle of geese.” He grinned. “You know, all in a day’s work. Here.” He tossed her a manila folder.

She ruffled through the papers. “I don’t think I’ve seen a ship like this. Looks kind of familiar. Maybe related to T’Karg Republic?”

Jake shook his head. “Negative. It was powered by electricity. The T’kargians had an aversion to electrical current. It was all sonic, remember?”

“That’s where you got that sonic illuminator, isn’t it,” the Doctor piped up. “Great planet T’karg. Lots of neat cafes. Of course, the food is awful, what with the slime they produce. Can I see the ship, Rose?”

She handed him the photograph and he wished for his glasses. He had noticed that his vision was not as sharp now that he had human ocular muscles, and lacked the double lens in Gallifreyan eyes. However, if he held the photo away from his face a bit, he could see it well enough. “Oh, I know that make. That’s Qwedegan.”

“What does that mean,” Jake asked, tossing a glance back at the Doctor.

“We don’t have anything to worry about,” the Doctor answered. “The Qwedagans are a peaceful race. In fact, they don’t really leave their planet much.”

“Well, that’s good,” Rose said. “What do you know about them?”

“They’re amphibious, like frogs, sort of. They have rejuvenating mud in the riverbeds on their planet, and they have an incredibly tasty fly based soup. You see, the flies on the planet are four times the size or human flies, and they’re a lot less gross, to be honest. What’s weird though, is that Qwadegans don’t really use a lot of electricity. In fact, back say… a thousand years ago, right before I was woven, Gallifrey traded some of its technology with them in exchange for peaceful dealings.”

“Does that mean things are bigger on the inside,” Rose asked.

“It does. And that they travel using sonic and Void related power. Not exactly like a TARDIS, because they’re sentient, not technological, but not entirely differently either.”

Jake pulled up to a chaotic gathering of Londoners being shooed away by Torchwood officers. Over the heads of the crowd, the Doctor could just make out the ship. It wasn’t much bigger than a human rocket. However, it was shaped entirely differently. The Qwedagans were partial to smooth and rounded edges and their means of travel was not much different. It was shaped like an egg, with several protruding prongs used, no doubt, to regulate direction and speed.

The van stopped and the trio stepped out. Immediately, the frenzied officers seemed to relax. If Rose Tyler’s team was here, even if there had been a substitution, things were sure to go much more smoothly.

Jake went around to the back of the van for a moment, opened the trunk, and returned several seconds later with three of the oversized weapons like the one that the Doctor had seen Rose carrying when they had first reunited. He handed one to Rose, who slung the strap over her shoulder, and offered one to the Doctor, who took a step back. “Don’t carry guns.”

“It’s protocol,” Jake said. “You don’t have to actually use it.”

The Doctor eyed the weapon. He was not going to budge on this. Guns were barbaric, and, even if he had been born out of revenge, as the Time Lord Doctor had claimed, he was not about to wield one. “I haven’t used a gun since my ninth form.”

Jake looked at Rose, who nodded. “Leave it,” she told him.

Shrugging, Jake tossed the weapon into the back seat before turning. "All right," he said. "Game time."

Rose looked to the Doctor, who had already begun to charge forward. She reached forward and grabbed his hand. He turned in surprise, eyes trained on the joined limbs. "Look," she said, tone soft. "I know that you're used to doing things a certain way on the TARDIS, but Torchwood has a formula for how to handle first contacts. I need you to... sort of.... hang back a little." Her eyes searched his imploringly. "We can't just go barging in there with no game plan."

The Doctor gave her hand a squeeze, ecstatic that she had taken his at all. It was true that he was unused to taking a backseat for situations like this one, but he sensed that Rose was testing him, giving him a chance to show her that he was serious about making things easy for her. He could be passive, he decided, for Rose. He gave her a nod and was rewarded with that ghost of a smile that she had been giving him. _Soon_ , he thought, _I'll see you smile for real. That's my next goal _.__

 _"Okay," she said. "Good."_

 _Finally, they caught up with Jake, who stood just beyond the boundary of safety next to the spaceship. "You ready," he asked the approaching duo. When they nodded, he continued. "Our first objective is to lure them out of the ship. Then we establish friendly, but cautious, contact. Then, we determine the objective of their visit, aid if we can, and hopefully end on friendly terms before we turn them over to the diplomats."_

 _The Doctor listened carefully. "Right," he said. "So, how do we lead them out?"_

 _"You don't happen to speak their language, do you," Jake asked hopefully._

 _"Qwadegan? I'm... decent."_

 _Rose quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. The Doctor claiming to be anything less than impressive? There's a surprise. Perhaps it was a bit of Donna's insecurity coming through._

 _"Brilliant," Jake said. "Can you try to contact them inside their ship? We have a device to establish connection."_

 _"Of course. Lead the way."_

 _"Great," said Jake, leading him to the console that Torchwood had brought to communicate. The Doctor ran his fingers over the control pad, sending out a frequency that universally corresponded with alien life forms. He spoke in a rhythmic series of sounds, establishing that he was from the Earth's embassy for alien encounters, and that they would be happy to aid the Qwadegans in whatever it was they desired of the planet._

 _There was no response for several moments. Quickly, the Doctor repeated himself. There seemed to be traffic on the other end of the line, but it was indecipherable. Finally, after repeating the message a third time, there was a response. A Qwedagen female replied cryptically that the needs of the landing party would become apparent when they wished it. She established that they would indeed leave the ship and the inhabitants of Earth should prepare to receive them._

 _When the correspondence had finished, the Doctor looked troubled. Rose noticed the darkening of his eyes immediately and stepped forward. "What's wrong," she asked him, drawing the attention of the other Torchwood officers._

 _The Doctor looked up. "She sounded... strained," he replied. "You see, Qwadegans are known for the musical tones to their language. This female sounded... for lack of a better word, musically sharp. It was indicative of fear. I think something's wrong. I don't know what, but something."_

 _"She's probably nervous about first contact," Jake offered absently, preparing for the Qwadegans' descent from the bridge of the ship._

 _The Doctor didn't seem convinced but, before he could voice his further concerns, the telltale sound of an airlock opening caught their attention. However, when the smoke began to clear, the concern on the Doctor's face morphed into full on horror. "Everybody get back," he shouted. "Those are not Qwedagans."_

 _"What's the matter," Rose demanded, her weapon at the ready._

 _"Those are Methusafeelia," he replied._

 _"What does that mean," Jake called, also loading his weapon._

 _"You know how I said that the Qwedagans were harmless?"_

 _"Yeah,"Jake prompted._

 _"The Methusafeelia aren't."_

 _The creatures that stepped from the ramps were enormous, at least a head taller than the Doctor, who was extremely tall for a human. They wore armor reminiscent of the Spartan era and carried enormous trident-like weapons. However, the most frightening aspect of the elephantine aliens were the enormous ant heads resting on their shoulders, complete with pincers. Rose leaned forward, trying to swallow the trepidation building in her throat. "How do we fight them, should the need arise?"_

 _"Oh, it'll arise," the Doctor replied, considering what his answer should be. The Methusafeelia were notoriously difficult to harm and infamously cruel._

 _"How can you be so sure," she asked._

 _"They feed on pain," he answered._

 _The tension was palpable when he said that. "What," Rose prompted, her voice rising slightly in fear._

 _"Stay back from them. I can communicate with them, but it's not safe, Rose."_

 _Rose's temper flared. "I've done this almost twenty times. We've had two or three hostile situations. I'm not the helpless nineteen year old girl you once knew."_

 _He sensed that he had offended her, but he didn't have time to apologize adequately. "Rose, I didn't mean that. But really, I would feel more comfortable if you'd let me handle this."_

 _"You promised me that you'd let _us_ handle this," Rose challenged._

The Doctor exhaled sharply, his eyes fixed on the Methusafeelia. "That was before I realized that you _couldn't_."

The condescending tone of the Doctor's voice irritated Rose, as it had on the TARDIS every time he had told that she couldn't do something because she was too weak, too stupid, or too human. Always, she had hung her head in shame like a kicked puppy. Well, she wasn't going to do so this time. This time, she was going to prove that she was not useless and that he never should have left her in that godforsaken parallel universe. Recklessly, and without a backward glance at the Doctor, Rose stalked forward, gun at the ready should she need it. The Doctor had been distracted by another member of Torchwood and therefore didn't notice her making a beeline towards the imposing alien figures.

Rose gulped hard as she approached. The enormous beasts took in her tiny 5' 6" frame and made a series of clicking sounds resembling speech. As she had expected, Rose failed to understand, and, thus, held aloft a portable translator device.

"Hello," she said into the device, which had instantaneously translated the English into a primitive form of the language that it had just processed. "Welcome to Earth. I'm Agent Tyler of the Torchwood embassy here on this planet. Is there anything with which we can assist you?"

The great, antlike beast regarded her. Without warning, it held its trident aloft in large claw-like hands. Rose didn't have time to react before she felt a surge of electricity issued directly from the trident that short circuited her weapon. She stumbled backward, dropping the gun. Struggling to maintain her composure and prove to the Doctor that she could handle the situation, Rose stood her ground. Before she could speak again, however, the Methusafeelian struck her with his trident. She went down and the other two crowded around her as she attempted to clamber to her feet. Suddenly, she gave a blood curdling scream as the head of the Methusafeelian landing party began to pump from his trident immense amounts of electrical energy through her body, effectively causing the most excruciating pain imaginable.

The Doctor's head snapped up as he heard Rose scream. His now single heart nearly stopped at the sight of the three Methusafeelia closing in around her. They were feeding on the agony caused by the presumable leader's weapon. His Rose's agony. Without hesitation, he was running. He could see the other two preparing to increase her anguish through the addition of their own electrical beams and he was not about to let that happen. When he reached her, the Doctor all but ignored the advancing threat and grasped her around the waist. He lifted her and sent her backwards, through the air, and to the ground several feet away. The Methusafeelia turned their weapons on him and the pain brought him to his knees.

Rose forced herself to her feet. Jake, ever the logical thinking military officer, did what probably should have been done from the beginning. He snatched an elephant tranquilizer from a stunned lower ranking officer. Expertly, he pumped three darts each into the exposed, stalklike necks of the aliens. The anesthetic reacted with the alien's frenzied blood flow and felled them immediately, their weapons thumping on the damp earth. The Doctor, who had gone to his knees, now fell forward, joining his attackers in a prostrate position in the grass.

Rose shot forward, tears streaming as she took in the sight of the injured Doctor. This was all her fault. Ignoring her own injuries, she fell beside the Doctor, flipping him over and taking his head onto her lap. "Doctor," she called frantically. "Doctor! Are you all right?"

The Doctor pushed open his eyes and smiled, despite the painful welts he felt forming on his body. "Rose... you called me Doctor," was all that he managed to say before losing consciousness.

The Torchwood medics descended upon them as the combat officers placed restraints on the Methusafeelia. Reinforcements were called as Rose watched the Doctor loaded onto a stretcher. She clung to his hand, tears still falling, as they brought him to the on scene medical car. They tried to examine her, too, but she had screeched, claiming that she was fine and that their first priority was the Doctor. She was not about to lose him before she had gotten used to having him again.

As they treated him, Jake came up to yell at his partner. "What the bloody hell were you thinking, flying off like that? You're the one always going on about bloody protocol! Now look what you've gone and done! We've set up hostile contact with a dangerous alien race because you were so stupid!" He took in frustrated gasps of air before demanding, "Tell me what brought this on! Is it because the Doctor was here?"

Rose had a temper of her own, and the frenzy around the Doctor had increased. So in response she snapped, "It doesn't bloody well matter why! What matters is that I did it! Now, go file your bloody report!"

He bristled, face red from anger. "You could get dismissed for this," he shouted. "I don't care who your dad is!"

"Good," she yelled back. "The reason that I took this damn job is in a sodding stretcher! So shove off!" With that, she turned on her heel and shot towards the medical truck. "What's going on," she demanded.

"He's in shock," a paramedic answered. "We've got to take him to the Torchwood ICU to treat him. Got a lot of bloody burns, too."

A lump formed in Rose's throat as she caught a glimpse of the Doctor, stripped of his jacket and in the process of having his shirt cut off. His skin was an angry red all the way down his torso to the top of his trousers. "I'm going with you in the truck," she asserted.

The paramedic snapped, "There's no sodding room in the back of the truck. Can't you see that?"

"Then I'll ride in the front," Rose shouted.

The paramedic looked as if she wanted to protest, when another noticed her and said, "That's Rose Tyler, the president's daughter. You can't refuse her."

Rose stared hard at the first paramedic, who swore and muttered something that sounded like 'damned heiress,' before gesturing that she should get into the cab of the truck.

All the way back to Torchwood, Rose kept her eyes on what was going on in the back. It made her sick to see the tubes running from the Doctor. _Why did he jump in front of the damned tridents_ , she wondered angrily, though she already knew why. It was because he's the Doctor, and the Doctor doesn't allow others to suffer when he can stop it. He'll just stop it, no matter the cost to himself, because he isn't important in the grand scheme of things. At least, he thinks he isn't, when in reality he is. He's the most important. Especially to Rose. As she rode in that car, she wondered how she could have ever doubted the legitimacy of who he was. Since the TARDIS had dematerialized on the beach, he'd been acting just like the Doctor always did. He was volatile, arrogant, manic, and condescending. However, under all of that, he cared. He cared so deeply that he hadn't said anything every time she'd pushed him away. He hadn't demanded of her the acceptance that he so craved. Most importantly, he hadn't blamed her; not for the loss of the TARDIS or Donna, not for her borderline hostility, not for her inability to call him Doctor, and not for her own emotional turmoil. She wasn't ready to love him again, yet, but she was sure as hell going to make an effort to treat him like the Doctor, because that's who he was inside, humanity or not. She could kill herself for being such a cow to him.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor awoke to the sound of Rose's voice. She was shouting. He struggled to clear his head in order to hear her better.

"You can't give him that," she screeched. "He's allergic to aspirin!"

"Ms. Tyler, it doesn't say anything in his file about such an allergy," the nurse countered.

"Listen, you stupid cow. I know him better than any sodding chart from Torchwood. If you try to put that aspirin in his drip, I will personally rip those manky extensions out of your hair."

The nurse did not reply. The Doctor opened an eye to see her storming away, most likely to tell her supervisor. Rose stared, stone faced, after her. Taking a breath, he was surprised to find that he hurt. All over. He glanced down without moving his head and took in his bare arm, the skin of which was the angry, peeling red of a particularly bad sunburn. The memory of the Methusafeelia came rushing back to him, and he had to take a few breaths to steady himself. Thankfully, his heartbeat had remained constant in the monitor. No need to frighten Rose, who was walking in his direction. He closed his eyes for another moment as she sat down. Before she could speak, he tried to say, "You know, I don't actually know if this body is allergic to aspirin." What came out, however, was a long, drawn out groan. He wondered if his vocal chords had been damaged somehow.

The sound was enough for Rose, whose brown eyes immediately met his. "Doctor," she cried. "You're okay!" She lurched forward, seizing his hand and clutching it tightly. She would have pulled him in for one of the tightest hugs of his life had he not been hooked up to so many tubes. The Doctor smiled again, the sound of his name on her lips sending a warmth through him.

"Right," he rasped out after several failed attempts. "Mind updating me on the situation?"

Rose bit her lip. "It's not good. We left the scene a few hours ago, but Torchwood fears a war with the occupants of the ship. They've been waiting for you to wake up ever since we sent in the report, so that you can advise them on how to either avoid conflict or help them defend Earth." She withheld the fact that she was to be dismissed from first contact missions and confined to deskwork because of her brashness. Her father had sent for her in a rage, having been informed of her actions by a furious Jake. The Doctor had not been punished only because Rose had demanded that he not be. After all, he had only done what he did to save her.

The Doctor pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the pain that he thought would be a bit worse than it currently was. Rose watched him for a moment before adding, "The doctors and nurses were stunned by how fast you heal. I had to explain about your... situation. Hope you don't mind."

He nodded. That must be another thing that he retained from his Gallifreyan genes. At least he was seeming to exhibit the more useful of his original race's traits. "I don't mind," he replied. "But, Rose, I have to ask: why did you approach them after I told you that they were dangerous?" Had the situation been a little different--had they been back on the TARDIS--he would have asked her in a much more accusatory tone. However, his anger would really have been a reflection of his irritation at himself. How could he not have realized that she had left his side? He was always aware of her, or he _had_ always been.

She let go of his hand and lowered her eyes. "I... I wanted you to see that I could handle myself. I wanted prove to you that I wasn't just a stupid girl anymore. I guess that really backfired, yeah?"

The Doctor reached out and took her hand again, missing the contact that he had been longing for since he had arrived. "No," he said softly. "I know that you aren't stupid. I never dreamed that you were. You're brilliant. So brilliant, Rose. Think about all that you did here after we got separated. A dimension cannon? Who else could come up with that, but Rose Marion Tyler?"

She looked up and a grin came to her lips when she met his eyes. _That's it_ , he thought. _There's a smile. Goal achieved_.

The nurse had appeared again, followed by a doctor in a white lab coat. She was obviously intent on vengeance towards Rose, when she noticed the Doctor sitting upright and talking. Instantly, the doctor in the white lab coat came up beside them. "I see that you're finally awake," she said. "It's been a few hours and we were all starting to worry. Particularly your friend here." She gestured to Rose. "She's been worried sick."

"Weeell, I'm a little harder to put out of commission than most," the Doctor replied, grinning flirtatiously. "So, tell me... doctor... McNair," he read off her name tag. "When can I get out of here?"

"Well," Dr. McNair replied, scanning the Doctor's chart. "I'll need to examine you once more, but you seem to have healed from burns that we thought would dehabilitate you in a ludicrously short time. You're lucky, you are."

"That's the DNA I was telling you about," Rose supplied, her grin widening at the news.

"Right," McNair answered, giving Rose a smile of her own. "If you really are as healed as we think, you should be able to walk out of here after we take a look at you with little more than some antibiotics to counteract cell damage and ease the pain of the burn."

"Fantastic," the Doctor exclaimed, with a knowing look to Rose.

"All right," the nurse said, grasping the curtain that would hide the Doctor from the view of prying eyes. "Gown off." To Rose, she directed a spiteful look. "You'll need to step out."

Fixing the nurse with a glare, Rose excused herself. "I'll be just outside when you're done, Doctor."

The Doctor nodded, once again pleased to hear her call him 'Doctor.'

Rose stood outside the curtain, listening to the sound of the Doctor being examined. "Well," he explained to McNair and that bint of a nurse, "my race, that is, the non human one, has regenerative qualities to it that allows the individual to immediately begin to repair damage to the body. Lucky that I retained that? Of course, I've yet to figure out what else I've retained. Strength, rate of hair growth, metabolism, sleep requirements, sex drive, rate to hunger."

He continued to babble, but Rose stopped hearing him after 'sex drive.' He was prone to saying inappropriate things when he was sick. She remembered the Christmas that he had regenerated, when he'd basically told her mother to stuff it when she had started talking too much. The memory brought out a little snort of laughter from Rose.

The exam seemed to be finished, because Dr. McNair announced, "It looks like nothing more than a bad sunburn. Amazing."

"So," the Doctor asked. "Can I go?"

"Looks like it," McNair replied.

Moments later, the nurse stepped out, red faced, and gathered up the box holding the Doctor's blue suit. She disappeared behind the curtain again, as McNair came out. She saw Rose standing to the side and said, "You're very lucky, Miss Tyler."

"So he's gonna be okay," Rose asked.

McNair nodded. "That, and he certainly is pretty, isn't he?"

Rose laughed. "Yeah. He is, isn't he?"

The nurse followed shortly. "Feel better, love," she said to the Doctor as she pulled back the curtain, revealing him once again dressed in his blue suit.

"Bye, then," he called to her retreating back.

Rose narrowed her eyes in jealousy, but was distracted by the sudden feeling of the Doctor's arms wrapped around her. She rested her head on his left shoulder, enjoying the scent of his jacket. It was a hug that she wanted now. She had been so worried about him that she had nearly gone mad torturing herself the with possibilities. He could be her friend again, and maybe, eventually, a man she could love. So she let him hug her. However, when his arms tightened, she gave a whimper of pain. The Doctor released her, concern in his eyes. "What's wrong, Rose," he demanded.

"Nothing," Rose replied evasively.

He stared at her, his eyes incredulous. Finally, she sighed. "It's just a bit of... burns."

"What! They didn't examine you as well?" How could he have forgotten her own injuries?

"I wouldn't let them," she replied sheepishly,

"Why not," he demanded.

"I didn't want to leave you," she confessed. "I was worried."

The Doctor's heart contracted for a moment. She had been worried about him. He shook his head quickly to clear it of the distraction. She was the priority. She was always the priority. "Rose, you have to let the doctors look at you."

"Doctor, I really just want to go get a drink."

He crossed his arms. "Rose," he said in warning.

She was not giving. She didn't like the Torchwood doctors. Or any doctors for that matter. At first, it had simply been because they had reminded her of him, then it had been that no one could cure her the way the Doctor could. Her mother had repeatedly tried to get her to seek help after her loss, but she had not been able to bear to hear the title 'Doctor.' She dug in her heels. "Doctor, Gawain invited us to the pub tonight, remember?"

He stiffened. "Oh yes. Gawain." He remembered the pretty boy with distaste.

Rose picked up on the tone. "Doctor," she said, "Gawain's a nice bloke."

He huffed, jealousy flaring in his belly. Giving her a look, he offered an ultimatum. "I'll go to the pub with you, if you at least let _me_ take a look at your skin. And if we pick up some ointment at the chemist's."

She sighed. "Fine."

"All right, then," he said. "The chemist's first, then back to your home so I can take a look."

"Fine," she repeated.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose brought the Doctor to her little flat after they had purchased burn medication, due to his insistence that he should look at her. She also would be the first to admit that she needed a shower. It had been several days at this point. It wasn't the first time that she had ignored her personal hygiene in the face of greater engagement, though she wasn't proud of it.

Thankfully, the apartment was clean when she opened the door. Granted, she wasn't there much, being fully wrapped up in her work at Torchwood. However, now that the dimension cannon had come and gone, and now that she was banished from fieldwork, she imagined that she would have significantly more free time than she had had before.

The Doctor took in the barely lived in bedroom, with its made bed and tidy closet. It was nothing like the perpetual state of chaos in which Rose's room on the TARDIS had been. There also wasn't a stitch of pink anywhere to be found, like her room at Powell Estates. He didn't say anything as Rose removed her leather jacket.

"All right, Doctor," she said. "I'm going to get a shower so you can do your examination and we can go."

"All right," he replied.

"You can... er... make yourself comfortable, I suppose," she added, before making her way into the bathroom and closing the door.

After she had stripped off her clothing, Rose took in her reddened skin. The Doctor was sure to have a cow. _No matter_ , she thought. _Just won't let him order me around like he used to_.

The water felt good on her skin as she washed away the stress of the past three days.

 

Meanwhile, the Doctor stood uncertainly in the center of Rose's bedroom. After a moment, he headed into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. He had very rarely felt thirst as a Time Lord, but, now that he was human, he assumed that he would be required to attend to such things more often.

After he had satisfied his thirst. He realized that he was hungry based on the painfully empty feeling in his belly. Glancing around, he noticed a bunch of bananas barely beginning to brown. He loved bananas. Bananas were good. Without hesitation, he snatched one from the bunch. It tasted ripe and sweet on his tongue as he bit into it. His taste buds weren’t as sensitive now, so he couldn’t detect the minute amount of acidity that usually deterred him from most fruits. It was a welcome change, he decided as he chewed. He wondered if he would be able to like pears in this. With a shudder he decided no, probably not. When he finished the banana, he took another. As he discarded the peel and held just the fruit, he began to wander about the house, taking in the rooms that made up Rose's home. It was so small, claustrophobic really, compared to the TARDIS. There was one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a tiny office, all of which could be condensed to fit into his ship's console room. He wondered if he could grow accustomed to such a limited living space before supposing that he was going to have to, if Rose wanted him there.

Finishing his banana, he stepped into her office tentatively, unsure if any of the house was off limits. He hoped his presence in the office, which was cluttered with papers and looked the most lived in, would not serve to irritate her.

The desk was obviously the main attraction of the small room, bearing a desktop computer and a littering of Torchwood files. On the bookshelf across from it were several framed photographs. The Doctor recognized Tony Tyler, grinning proudly at the camera from a tree branch as a red faced Jackie Tyler seemed to be in the process of scolding him. There was one of Pete Tyler and his daughter in formal attire. He took in the midnight blue gown quickly before his eyes settled on Rose's face. She did not smile, which, in itself, disturbed him. Moreover, she looked haunted and sad, despite the many layers of makeup that she wore. He wondered, with a tightening of his heart, how long after they had been separated that the picture had been taken. Carefully, he tore his eyes away from the sight, and his gaze fell on a small felt box. If he did not know better, he would say that it was the type of box that normally held an engagement ring. Unable to fight the curiosity, the Doctor lifted the little thing in his fingers. After listening for the sound of water that indicated that Rose was still in the shower, he pinched the top and lifted it.

Nestled in the blue velvet lining on the inside was a key. Not just any key, however. The Doctor would have recognized this particular key anywhere. It was the key to the TARDIS. The one he had given her just before they had traveled to Utah in his ninth regeneration. He blinked several times to fight back the few tears that were forming in his hazel eyes. It wasn't often that he was so moved, but the connotation of the key, and what it meant that she had kept it safe, tugged on his heartstrings. He had regretted every day after he had lost her that the key was rendered useless. In fact, every time that he had used his own key, he had thought of her, if even for a nanosecond. The key symbolized that he had been ready to share his home with her forever. Giving her that key had been one of the first truly vulnerable things that he had done after the Time War had spit him into the universe in his ninth regeneration, all big ears and dark demons. Rose had been the one to save him from that. He would have given her a thousand keys if it had meant that he would have never lost her, never hurt her.

He must have lost track of how long he stood there, because Rose's voice invaded his thoughts. "Doctor," she questioned softly, taking in the sight of him, key in hand and eyes misty. He jumped, startled, and pasted on a grin. She had dressed in a pair of light blue jeans and a green jumper, her dried hair hanging just past her shoulders. "Hello, Rose," he said with a false brightness in his voice.

"Are you all right," she ventured softly.

"I'm always all right," he replied in a typical Doctor fashion.

Rose could tell just by looking at him that he was lying. However, she was also very familiar with how stubborn he could be. She decided not to pry. "Well, you think you can do your examination so we can go? I've got a serious craving for a pint and some chips."

The Doctor smiled. Still the same Rose, with her love of chips and a good time. He had noticed immediately that time had changed her, but, more and more, he was beginning to see that she really was not as different as he had feared. "Okay," he responded, following her to her bedroom. After a moment of awkward silence, he added, "Well, you'll need to remove your jumper and trousers, then. So I can see your skin."

Rose blushed pink. The Doctor had seen her in only her knickers for this sort of thing before, but it had always been in the medical wing of the TARDIS, making it seem more professional than it felt in the middle of her bedroom. Not to mention, the dynamic with the Doctor had changed. He had told her that he loved her. That had to have altered something. However, upon glancing at his face, which was not turned towards her, but scanning the tiny room, she told herself that she was just his patient. Scolding herself for the insecurity, she began to do as she was bid.

She could not contain a wince as she pulled the jumper over her head. The trousers came off easier, having less contact with her skin. Finally, she stood vulnerable before him.

"Lie down," he said, quietly. Here was Rose, all but naked before him. It was in this moment that he recalled how much he had missed her. Missed her scent on the TARDIS, missed her warmth as he held her to him, missed everything about her. He cleared his throat as he approached the bed where she lay on her belly. He flicked on the lamp on the bedside table and took a breath at the sight of her beautiful curves. _Stop it_ , he bid himself. _This is for medical purposes only. She's not here just for you to gander_.

The skin of her back bore several angry looking welts resulting from the electrocution. He ran cool fingers over one of them and Rose sucked in a breath. The Doctor pretended not to notice the heat that rose in his cheeks. He was blushing. He hadn't blushed in ages. Not since he was a child, just eighty years old. He pushed the physical reaction from his mind and clucked his tongue. "You really should have gotten this looked at, Rose. I can't heal you with the sonic like I used to."

"Well, if you can really make a new one out of that thing from the Archives, then I really won't have to worry much anymore, will I," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. It had been a long while since anyone had touched her bare skin and she found that there was a heat pooling in her stomach that she instantly resented. Even if her heart was beginning to accept that this man was the Doctor, her head was not ready to be sexually attracted to him. This heat was her body's mutinous way of undermining her wishes.

The Doctor's nostrils flared as he caught the scent of female arousal in the air. It was not a smell that he was unused to and he had smelled it on Rose increasingly more often towards the end of their time together on the TARDIS. He had also smelled it on Martha, but, thankfully, never on Donna. He mentally chastised himself for the flare of excitement that shot through him. Despite how he wanted her, the Doctor would never think to push Rose. He also had little understanding of how his new human body would respond to such an endeavor, if acted upon, and he would never think to make the first move. He was arrogant, it was true, but he knew Rose very well, and she wouldn't hesitate to reject him if he made any sort of premature advancement. He didn't know if he could handle such a snub from her, not when she was all that he had in this universe, and, really, all that he could want. Therefore, he forced his mind back to the task at hand. "I'll just put the ointment on the burns--that's kind of a funny word. Ointment. I wonder who was sitting and thinking of words for the English language and decided that ointment should be one of them. Anyway, I'll just put some ointment on the burns, then we can go. Any idea how long it'll take for them to start to clear?" He knew humans healed slower, and, without the medicinal bath that would have been provided by the TARDIS to instantly heal her, he had no idea just how much.

"A couple of days probably," she replied, taking in a sharp breath as the cold salve surprised her.

Carefully, so as not to further inflame her ever evident libido, the Doctor rubbed the lotion into the welts. When he was satisfied, he stepped back, averting his eyes. "Right," he said. "I assume you can get your stomach and shoulders?"

Rose seemed surprised. He had never had a problem with this sort of thing before. She sat up, her eyes going to his face, which was still flushed. She took the tube that he offered her and wondered what it was that had stopped him. After all, he had seemed more than ready to hold her hand and hug her. As she began to rub the ointment into the burns on her belly, she wondered, in horror, if his skittishness had been caused by her treatment of him for the past two days. She had been a right cow to him since the TARDIS had left the beach. Now that he had proven that his personality was almost identical to the Doctor's, she wondered if, perhaps, he was hurt that she had doubted him at all.

Quickly and without episode, Rose finished and pulled her clothes on again. If she really had disillusioned him, then all she could do was convince him that she was ready to start anew with their friendship. She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror across from the bed before coming up behind the Doctor to take his hand. "Let's go," she said. "I bet you're hungry."

He looked in surprise at their intertwined fingers. It was true that she had taken his hand two or three times before this, but something about this time felt special, as if he could detect a deeper meaning in the gesture than before. He grinned at her, hoping that her hand in his was a show of further acceptance. "I could do with some food," he replied.

The statement was punctuated by a sudden rumbling coming from the Doctor's abdomen, despite his banana feast earlier. He glanced down in surprise. "Well, that's new," he said, as Rose gave a laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have stuck with me this far! We get a little drunken!Doctor in this chapter.

The pub was more of a club than the sports bar that the Doctor had been expecting, complete with smoky atmosphere, a strobe lit dance floor, and a bunch of people gathering to dance, find dates, or some combination of the two. The Doctor coughed audibly as he passed a group of people around Rose's age puffing on cigarettes, earning himself a few evil looks. "I never understood human propensity to pump toxins into the air and inhale poisonous and addictive chemicals. I mean, think of what you all could be doing with the collective years that would have been saved without the dangers of nicotine. I'd imagine you'd have intergalactic travel by now."

"Come off it, Doctor," Rose teased. "You always talk about how old you are and you're going to tell me that you never smoked a fag in your life?"

The look she fixed him with made him snort in amusement. "Don't be silly, Rose. I've done things you've never dreamed of. Of course I've smoked. Once or twice," he gave her a pseudo-serious look. "But you, young lady, definitely should not. You know, avoid alcohol, stay in school, and all that nosh."

She laughed again before spying Gawain and a few others attempting to flag them down. Rose waved back before steering the Doctor over to the long booth that the group occupied. "Hello, everyone," she greeted as they shoved over to make room for the new occupants. "This is the Doctor."

"Oh, so you're the Doctor, are you," one of the two women called out. The Doctor took in her pale skin and black hair before grinning at her.

"That I am," he responded.

"My, he is foxy, isn't he," the redhead beside her added.

The Doctor laughed with Rose, who fixed the redhead with a look. "I told you, didn't I, Carrie?"

He turned to look at Rose. The thought of her talking to friends about him lit up his face and widened his smile. He remembered telling Donna about how beautiful Rose was after his new companion had finally called him out on his feelings for her. She had smiled and laughed, just as these people were doing now. It was true that he recognized that he was attractive by human standards, but he very rarely considered his appearance himself. After all, it hardly mattered, what with being preoccupied with saving planets and people all the time. With responsibilities like that, who had time to gawk at oneself in the mirror?

Gawain spoke up, interrupting the girls' chatter. "Not as foxy as our Rose looks tonight. Am I right, Harry," he asked the other male at the table.

"Oh, absolutely," Harry replied. "That green looks stunning with your skin tone."

 _Their Rose_ , the Doctor repeated in his mind. She was not _their_ Rose, she was _his_ Rose. He didn't like those men talking about Rose's looks. What right did they have to do so? How often had they been kept awake by the memory of her smile? How much had they wished she would appear beside them just so they could watch her breathing? Just so they could convince themselves that she was there and she was safe? He narrowed his eyes. "Rose is always beautiful," he said, taking her hand on the table. "No matter what she wears."

"Oh, now there's a keeper," the dark haired woman said loudly.

Rose fixed him with an unreadable expression. He merely gave her a tender smile that she tentatively returned before turning to the group. "All right, which one of you lot is gonna buy me a pint?"

"Oi," Carrie said, "Why do we have to buy you a pint? Why don't you get us a round, eh? Vitex heiress?"

"Fine, then," she countered, flagging down a passing waitress. "Get me a round of Guiness. Oh, and two orders of chips."

When the waitress had scurried off, Harry directed a playful accusation at Rose. "Heard you were mucking about the scene of a first contact today. What's up with that?"

Rose stopped for a moment. She swallowed quickly, glancing sidelong at the Doctor before replying, "Oh, you know, just me being a stupid bint. The usual."

The group exploded into laughter at her playful self deprecation. "So, what happened with the boss man," Carrie asked.

"You mean, daddy dearest," the dark haired woman laughed.

Rose turned red. "Forget work, guys. We're here to relax. I don't want to talk about the aliens."

There was a chorus of agreement as the waitress returned with the drinks and chips. Gratefully, Rose took a swig of her beer before attacking the food. The Doctor sipped the alcohol slowly, unsure as to how his human body would react to it. As a full fledged Time Lord, he could really put it away before it impeded his judgement. "So, Doctor," Gawain started. "How'd you fancy your first day at Torchwood?"

"Weell, to be honest, I've had better days. Had a bit of a nasty run in with a trigger happy alien at the crash site."

"Oh my gosh," Carrie gasped. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he said, waving off her worry. "I’m a bit tougher than I look."

There was more laughter as he stuck a chip in his mouth. Rose took another sip of beer beside him. Suddenly, the music changed from a trancelike beat, to a more energetic dance beat. "That's what I'm talking about," Gawain exclaimed, shoving his way out of the booth. "Rose, dance with me," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Gawain, I don't know if I should--" she started to say before he cut in.

"Nosh, Rose Tyler. You've been way too tightly strung lately. Ever since that bloody dimension cannon went online. Now it's time to relax a bit." He pulled her off towards the writhing bodies on the floor.

The Doctor stared at Rose as Gawain whispered in her ear as he had done earlier in the Torchwood offices, making her laugh out loud. A flare of jealousy passed through him as they danced, his Rose writhing with that pretty boy in a way that should be illegal in public places.

"Doctor," the dark haired girl called over the music.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he replied.

"It's Abbigail. But everyone calls me Abby."

"Good to meet you, Abby," he responded, eyes still fixed on Rose dancing with Gawain. Harry had gone off with Carrie to join them.

"Did you really come from another dimension?"

"Sorry," he asked absently.

"Another dimension. Once, when Rose got absolutely pissed, she started going on about how she had come from another dimension, where she'd traveled with you in something call the...TURVIS?"

"TARDIS," he corrected automatically.

Her eyes widened. "So it's true? You really are from another universe?"

He didn't answer, his blood was beginning to boil as Gawain laid a kiss on Rose's cheek. He chugged the remainder of his beer in a rage. Abby followed his gaze. "Did you... erm... did you want to dance or something?"

"No," he answered shortly.

"Oh." She watched as he proceeded to down Rose's beer. His head was spinning. Maybe the alcohol, coupled with his jealousy, was beginning to get to him. In any case, he still wanted to break that Gawain's neck for the way that he rubbed against Rose.

Abby was beginning to feel uncomfortable and scooted out of the booth. "I'm gonna run to the loo," she said, really just on formality, because she had accepted that he wasn't listening to anything she said. When she left, he brashly drank her beer as well. He felt slightly ill, but was still enflamed by Rose's dancing. How long was this bloody song? Or had it changed, and she had just kept going?

"Did you want another, love?" The waitress was back, bearing her tray of brews. He turned to look at her and noticed the three shots of tequila resting beside the pints. He reached up without a word, and slugged one back. The harder liquor burned his throat and he gave a cough, but it was perfect for what he wanted it to do. Perhaps, if he kept drinking, Rose's clear rejection of him would hurt less. He turned and snatched the entire tray from the stunned woman.

"Oi!" She moved to protest. The Doctor reached into Rose's jacket, withdrew her wallet, and tossed a fifty in the waitress's direction. She shut up, and went off in search of friendlier customers. The Doctor polished off the drinks that he had just overpaid for in the time frame of two more pop songs. Just as he was finishing, Rose came stumbling back with Gawain in tow. She was flushed from exertion and there was a grin on her face as she laughed, a grin that disappeared when she reached the table.

"Doctor, tell me you didn't drink all of these," she swept her hand out to encompass the many empty glasses before him.

"Maybe I did," he snapped. "What's it to you?"

She looked shocked, then irritated. "What's that supposed to mean," she demanded.

He rose, a bit unsteady on his feet. _So this body_ can't _hold its liquor_ , he thought, with a bark of a laugh. "It means, Rose Tyler, that you seem to be having plenty of fun without concerning yourself with what I'm doing."

Gawain leaned in, "Whoa, Doc, we were just having a bit of fun. We do it all the time. S'perfectly harmless."

The Doctor fixed Gawain with a hard look. "Right. I wonder how much 'harmless fun' you had before I got here."

"What are you on about," Rose scoffed.

"I'm on about you, slagging about with Sir Gawain of Pretty Boy," he snapped. He knew that he was being cruel and that using such words with her was not right, but his inhibitions were gone and Donna's insecurity had swelled to the surface.

Rose's mouth fell open in rage. "Sl-- you have no sodding idea what you're talking about. You're pissed."

"I may be pissed, Rose Tyler, but I still understand loyalty! Was it not two days ago that you were clinging to me, telling me how much you missed me? Were you not begging me to tell you that I loved you on the beach? And all this time, this bloke's been here, being sure to keep you satisfied," he spat the last word like a curse.

"You're bloody daft," she accused, hurt and anger in her voice.

"Am I?"

Gawain tried to step in once more. "Look, mate, you've got it all wrong."

"Oh, shove off. It doesn't take a sodding genius, which I am, to see what's right in front of his face!"

Rose was crying now. "Apparently, it does. Gawain is like Jack was. He's bloody _gay_!" The Doctor's mouth immediately snapped shut, but she wasn't done. "And for your information, I haven't been with anybody since I broke it off with Mickey! _Before_ you left me here! There was never anyone else for me after you! Even if you didn't love me back."

"D-didn't love you back? Do you realize how hard it was for me when you got lost?"

"Hard for you? You, with your TARDIS, and space, and Donna, and... TARDIS. What about me? Stuck here! Without you! You have no bloody idea, you stupid git!"

He stood, gaping at her. The Doctor could feel his body already beginning to metabolize the alcohol, and, as a result, he began to grasp at sobriety. _Ah, so that trait's stayed as well_ , he thought.

Rose was still crying, waiting for him to answer her. He struggled to grasp at anything that resembled words."I... Rose...I didn't think."

"No, you didn't, did you?"

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just feel a bit off,” he said, taking a step closer to her.

"That's because you've had enough booze for an entire football team, mate," an onlooker called out. It was then it became apparent that they had an audience. He found that he didn’t care.

“It’s been hard for me, too,” he whispered. “But, I know one thing.” He focused on her. “I love you, Rose. Really. I always did.” At that, he grasped her waist. Without warning, he yanked her to him so that he could place his lips on hers.

Rose gasped, her hands poised to push him away, but something stopped her. He tasted of alcohol and chips, but his lips were soft and pleading as he took her mouth. Something fluttered through her and she pushed her rage to the background, opening her lips invitingly to let him in. He gave a sound and pushed his tongue to gently meet hers through her teeth. Her arms tangled around his neck and caught at his hair. This kiss was so unlike the one that she had given him on the beach. It had the same need, the same love behind it, but this one was more desperate, deeper almost. His hands on the small of her back bent her double as she pushed her body closer to his.

Raucous cheering filled Rose’s ears and she jerked back from the kiss. Gawain was grinning, but Rose saw only the Doctor, chest heaving. She stared at him, noting that his face had gone a little green. She was still raging at him for being an ass, but she couldn't hold back the creeping worry. The Doctor swayed a bit, unused to such an onslaught of alcohol and emotions. "Doctor," she questioned, her voice betraying her feelings.

Suddenly, the Doctor fell, face first, into the table beside him, sending the empty glasses falling to the ground. "Doctor," she shouted, falling to her knees. It was the second time today that she had taken his head into her lap.

"He's out cold, Rose," Harry said, kneeling beside her.

"Why did have to be such a arse," she asked him.

Harry thought for a moment. "It seems to me like he was a bit insecure. You know you just say what you mean when you're pissed. Made up for it with that snog though."

"You should have seen yourself, pawing at each other,” Gawain teased, before asking, “He's not exactly a fun drunk, though, is he,"

She looked up. "No, he can be. Once, after he saved Madame de Pompadour, he came back with his tie on his head and a goofy grin on his face. He was spewing on about inventing the banana daiquiri early."

"Well, obviously, he's been feeling a little ignored, Rose," Carrie said.

"What's happened?" Abby had returned from the loo and was taking in the sight of the Doctor on the ground amidst bits of broken glass. Carrie quickly relayed the situation to her and she nodded, adding her own insight. "He looked a bit like a puppy what's been kicked when you went off to dance with Gawain. I felt sorta bad for him, especially based on the way he's been looking at you since you both walked in here. Wish I could have seen that kiss, though."

Rose looked back at the Doctor's face. She had been all but ignoring him since they had gotten to the pub, only just starting to pay attention after he'd gotten drunk. Since then, she'd been treating him like he was a lost or fragile child. Neither seemed right at all. "Still," she whined, "he was being such a bloody tosser. He called me a slag."

Gawain laughed. "I call you slag," he countered, playfully.

She glared at him. "That's different and you know it."

"Even so, he probably didn't mean it. How long's it been since he had so much to drink?"

He'd never had alcohol in this body. Rose couldn't help feeling as if their argument had been mostly her fault. She probably should have stayed in with him or taken him someplace quieter, but a part of her was still hurting from the Time Lord Doctor's rejection. She had wanted her friends. Now, she'd mucked it all up. Maybe she really was a stupid ape, like he had used to call her. "Forget it. Will you help me get him into a cab?"

Harry took one of the Doctor's arms and Gawain got ahold of the other. Together, they half carried, half dragged him out of the pub.


	9. Chapter 9

Rose had a time of getting the Doctor up the stairs to her flat. However, when she finally got him inside, she deposited him on her bed, thanking god that he was so thin. If he had been in his ninth regeneration, all hard muscle and quite a bit broader, she wouldn't have been able to move him two feet.

She took off his chucks and suit jacket, remembering how she had cared for Mickey when he used to get pissed after his favorite football team won a big match. Sighing, she sat down beside the Doctor on the bed. In truth, her heart still hurt from his accusations. He couldn't have been more wrong and the fact that he thought so little of her disturbed Rose. She hadn't lied in the pub. She'd had countless offers, from Mickey, people at work, random men from the pub, and she'd turned them all down. No one could compare to the Doctor and her brain had told her that it would have been unfaithful to take up with anyone other than him. So she had thrown all her efforts into getting back to him. However, his kiss had told her that he knew that. More likely, she thought, he was probably just hurt. She ran a hand over his cheek.

 She wondered if her friends had been right. Had he worried that she didn't want him anymore? She could imagine why he had drawn that conclusion, considering she hadn't even called him Doctor for the first day and a half. It was hard to believe that it had only been two days. She'd suffered enough emotional turmoil to suffice for a lifetime or two. Now, she studied the Doctor's face as she had that morning. There was a bit of a bruise on his forehead from when he had fallen and struck the table. She had never seen him like that. It was true, when she thought about it, that she had seen a hint of fear and insecurity in his eyes behind his accusations. She felt tears welling as she recalled the last time that she had mistreated him. It had been over three years ago, when he had regenerated. She hadn't known what to think, especially since her nineteen year old self had been falling for the other him, the first him, with his blue eyes. She remembered those eyes and how they could draw her in, push her away, punish, and praise her. This Doctor's eyes could always do the same. How could she have been so mean to the human him? Was it really so different from when he had regenerated? He was changed, it was true, and he adopted slightly different mannerisms, but he had the same memories. How was this any different at all? She shuddered, wondering when exactly she had come to want him again. Most likely it had been that hug in the Archives. Or maybe she had always wanted him the whole time, but couldn’t let herself believe it.

She took a steadying breath, and tore her eyes from his face to look around her tiny bedroom. She had draped his suit jacket over the doorknob. He'd need new clothes. He couldn't just wear the same suit everyday like he had before. She'd take him tomorrow, if he was feeling up to it. For now, she took up the blue jacket and, to give her hands something to do, she began to empty the pockets. She smiled at the depth. Bigger on the inside. From the left pocket, she withdrew the brown spectacles that he sometimes wore to make himself look smart, as if he could look any smarter than he did the moment he opened his mouth to speak. Following the glasses were several objects that resembled washers, probably from the TARDIS, with which he was always tinkering. There were a few other things that she couldn't identify.

She moved onto the right pocket, lifting out a pen and a scrap of pale pink fabric. At the sight of the latter object, Rose's throat constricted, for she immediately recognized it. She had worn it in her hair when the Doctor had taken her to the 1950's, where there had been a fearsome, face stealing creature that had called itself "the Wire." It had been that day that she had seen something betrayed in his gaze as he ran to take her into his arms. She had always believed that, after that day, their dynamic would have changed. In a way, it did, just not the way she had hoped it would. Rose had known that she was in love with him way before that day and she had hoped against hope that he returned some of those feelings. However, though he had held her in the street, and though he hadn't stopped looking at her for some time once they were back in the TARDIS, he had not taken that step that she had longed for. She liked to hope that he would have had she not been trapped in this universe. Many a night she had dreamed that he would appear, profess his love, finally, and take her away, never to be apart from her again.

She brought the fabric to her face. It smelled faintly of a perfume that she used to wear, but had left on the TARDIS. The fact that he had had it in his pocket, even before he had split into two beings, spoke miles more than his words ever would have. She tucked the scrap back into the pocket, deposited the jacket on the bed beside her, and stretched out beside the Doctor's sleeping form. She pressed up against his back, taking in the smell she loved, a smell that couldn't be masked by any amount of alcohol. Before she settled in to sleep, Rose stretched her neck to lay a soft kiss on his cheekbone. "I love you, Doctor," she whispered into the darkness, surprising herself. She didn’t care that he couldn't hear her. It needed to be said. Eventually, she would be able to tell him straight, but, for now, this was all she could give him.

 

The following morning found the Doctor waking with a headache of all things. He had never had a headache and he had never really understood what his companions had been complaining about. He certainly did now. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. After a moment, the memory of what had happened the night before came rushing back. In seconds, he was on his feet, regretting the dizziness that accompanied the sudden movement, but he knew that he couldn't allow it to hinder him. He dashed from the room in search of Rose.

He found her in the kitchen making tea. "Rose," he called out softly.

She turned. "Good morning, Doctor," she said.

"I'm sorry about what I said," he blurted in a rush, "I didn't mean it. I could never mean something like that. I was pissed, Rose. I've not been pissed in three years. I didn't know how much I could drink. I never should have pushed myself on you. I--"

"Doctor," Rose cut in. "It's okay. Really."

"What," he asked, dumbfounded. She wasn't mad? That wasn't like Rose, who could be cross with him over the drop of a hat. And this time, she had every right to be angry. He'd said such... unsavory things to her. "But Rose, I--"

She cut him off again with a shush and only further surprised him by pulling him into a hug. He wouldn't complain of course, his hand instinctively circling her waist. "It doesn't matter," Rose said. "I'm over it. You were pissed. It happens."

He could cry at the compassion in her voice. That was Rose, always surprising him, always understanding when she should be leaving him in the gutter somewhere. Instead, she continued to hold him and he head rested on hers, taking in the scent of her jasmine shampoo. However, he couldn’t let it lie. He tried a final time. “Rose, what I did was awful. And in public.”

Rose gave a growl of frustration. She roughly seized his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. He gave a rather feminine squeak of surprise as she forced open his lips with hers. Rose’s tongue ravaged his mouth, tracing the shape of his teeth and gums, before she sucked his lower lip between her own teeth.

The excitement of such a kiss sent heat surging through the Doctor, pooling in the southernmost part of his anatomy. Rose could feel the swelling on her belly and she gave a moan, pushing into him. The Doctor found himself gasping for air and he pulled back slightly. “Rose,” he ground out. “I don’t mean anything by it. But we need to stop.”

She latched her lips on the pulse point on his neck, sucking and licking the spot. This only succeeded in exciting him further. “Are you sure,” she murmured against his skin.

It took all of his control not to throw her into the sink and steal her dominance away. “Y-yes,” he grunted out.

Heaving a sigh, she stepped back. The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck furiously as her eyes fell south. He had never been so physically affected by anything before. Rose grinned.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Oi. Don’t smirk at me.”

Rose could tell that he was embarrassed, so she turned away, still struggling not to giggle like an over excited schoolgirl. "You want a cuppa," she asked him, trying to be as casual as possible.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice still a bit higher than normal. "That'd be nice." He quickly sat on the stool behind the bar counter, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

She nodded, getting him a mug. "How's your head?"

"Honestly, it's been better," he answered. She had snogged him, rather thoroughly, and was now making small talk. How could she expect him to be in a position to answer her light questions?

"I bet," she laughed. "I remember when Mickey used to get pissed in some sports bar and I'd have to nurse him in the morning. I don't really want to risk aspirin, but were you allergic to ibuprofen?"

He shook his head, still dazed by her kiss. Thankfully his body was beginning to relax. He had expected her to kick him out to be on his own. She had certainly surprised him. "Good," she said, handing him two of the little pink pills from the bottle she kept in one of her cabinets. He swallowed them with a swig of tea, which, thankfully, didn't burn his mouth.

Rose sat down on the stool beside him, adding sugar to her own tea. "I thought we could go shopping today. You'll need things like clothes, a toothbrush, a razor." She passed her hand over his bristly cheek playfully.

"What's wrong with my suit," he asked her, trying to keep from leaning into her palm, brief as the touch was.

"Well, you can't wear the same thing everyday anymore, or people will start to notice. And you don't have the TARDIS to do your laundry for you."

He went quiet for a minute and Rose realized her mistake. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"No, it's fine," he said. "I need to get used to the idea of being planet bound. I just miss her, is all."

"I bet. I missed her so much that I nearly died trying to get back to her."

"I knew that she was the real reason," he exclaimed jokingly. "My TARDIS."

"You found me out," Rose admitted between giggles.

They finished their tea in companionable silence. Finally, the Doctor rose, taking the cups to the sink. "So," he said. "Shopping?"

She nodded. "Good call. That suit's starting to reek."

"Oi!"

She laughed at him, rising and heading back to her room in search of her trainers. The Doctor pulled on his chucks, which lay in the corner where she had put them the night before. When they were both ready, she took his hand, grabbed her purse, and they were off.

 

"Rose," the Doctor called from the dressing room. "I can't wear this. It's awful."

"Let me see," she demanded.

There was a huff of breath. "Fine," he acceded. "But you aren't allowed to laugh at me."

When the Doctor stepped out, she couldn't imagine what he had been talking about. The jeans that he wore with the black and orange hoodie hugged him in a way that made heat pool in Rose's stomach. Her pupils dilated at the sight of his bottom in the denim. "What's the matter with it," she questioned, her voice a few decibels higher than it usually was.

If the Doctor noticed the change in her, he made no mention of it. "What's the matter with it," he repeated incredulously. "Everything. What's wrong with my suits?"

"I just thought that you should maybe have something a little more... casual. Most people don't just wear suits all the time."

"Well, I'm not most people, Rose," he answered irritably.

"I like it," she said, her voice a little husky.

He caught the change now, and turned to look at her. "Rose?"

She took a step toward him. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

She shook her head to clear it. "What? Yeah. Sorry. Dunno what that was."

"S'okay," he replied with a cocky smirk. "I still don't want these."

She dug her heels in. "I'll take you to get lots of suits if you let me get you this outfit too."

“But I’ll never wear it,” he protested. “Why spend your money on clothes that I don’t like.”

She fixed him with a look and he grunted in frustration at her stubbornness. "Fine," he acquiesced.

***  
"Now _this_ is more like it," he exclaimed the next time that he emerged from the dressing room. He was dressed in an olive green suit with a burgundy button down and a slightly darker tie. "I look sharp."

It was true. The Doctor was just as appealing in this outfit as he had been in the hoodie, but in a much more familiar sort of way. She sighed. If he was more comfortable like this, then so be it.

"All right," she agreed. "Pants next."

 

***  
They emerged from the department store with two shopgirls in tow. It was true that they had spent an obscene amount of money, money that Rose didn't much like to flaunt, but the Doctor had needed these things. It was also true, perhaps, that he didn't need four Armani suits and three more Dolce men's line suits, but Rose had figured that, if he was going to wear them all the time, they might as well be the best. They had also purchased five packs of boxer briefs, ten dress shirts, eight ties, two more pairs of Chuck Taylors, three pairs of pajamas, and a long beige overcoat that they had found tucked away in a men's outerwear boutique.

They were just leaving the chemist's with razors, shaving gel, and product for the Doctor's hair, when Rose's mobile went off.

"Hello," she said into the phone. "Oh, hi Mum." Immediately, the Doctor recognized Jackie's voice berating her daughter on the phone. He listened to Rose placate her as she yammered on about how Rose hadn't called after the accident with the Methusafeelia. Pete had, apparently, been worried sick. Finally, Rose agreed to what sounded like dinner and hung up.

"Mum wants to have us for dinner," she said, confirming his suspicions,

"Nothing like Jackie Tyler's maternal instincts," he countered, rubbing his cheek in memory of the slap he was sure he would carry with him for the rest of his days. "Do we have to go now," he asked her.

"Nah, we have a bit. I figured you'd want to shower, shave, and change, yeah?"

He chuckled. "Rose Tyler, I believe that you are implying that I smell."

"Who's implying anything," she countered.

"You'd better watch it, miss."

They laughed as they unloaded the town car that they had booked for the day. It took several trips, but, finally, they had trucked everything up to Rose's flat.

"Those suits'll need to be hung. I suppose you can take half the closet and... the first two drawers in the chest."

He helped her unload all of his new things from the many bags they had before excusing himself to try out the new phenomenon known as a shower. It wasn't as though he'd never had one before, it was just that there had been no real need of them when he could regulate and neutralize bodily toxins with a properly directed cell or nerve ending. Now, being half human, he was going to have to adapt to the regular use of the shower.

He felt strange being completely naked in Rose's house, where he knew she was just a few thin walls away. He did not dwell in front of the mirror and immediately sought to conceal himself behind the curtain. He wasn't embarrassed by his own nudity, but he would prefer to keep it from Rose for the time being. He didn't know if she would walk in to tell him something, or anything of that sort.

Armed with his new arsenal of hair products and body wash, the Doctor set to work cleaning himself, admittedly loving the forgotten feel of the warm stream running over his skin. He probably took a bit too long in the bathroom, but when he emerged, wrapped in a towel, he felt extremely satisfied by his new sense of cleanliness.

Rose was shocked by the sight of him so undressed, as she'd never seen his bare chest before. She reflexively held up a hand as a shield for her eyes. "Hello, Doctor," she said, a little uncomfortable.

The Doctor picked up on her discomfort and rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding the towel. "Er... sorry. I didn't bring my clothes in with me. I'll be sure to do that from now on."

"No," Rose said. "It's fine. Really. Just wasn't expecting it, is all. I'll just pop out so that you can get dressed. I thought maybe we could go the cinema, or the park, or something, before we head to my parents'."

"That'd be fun," he responded. "But shouldn't we go to Torchwood to check on the status of the Methusafeelia? They're a dangerous race, Rose, and I can't see them being okay with an attack on three of their kind."

"My dad hasn't said anything about trouble," Rose said. She really didn't want to go back to the office. For one thing, she still hadn't made up with Jake, and, for another, she hadn't explained about Mickey either. Her partner was probably frantic. She also just didn't want to bother, not when she was confined to her desk.

"You can't honestly think that those where the only three aboard the ship? If the ship was indeed Qwadegan, which I am almost positive it was, remember that the technology is like Gallifreyan science."

"Bigger on the inside, I know," Rose huffed.

"Exactly," he replied. "Not to mention, something had to have happened to the Qwadegans, because only they can drive their ships, and they would never align themselves with such a brutal race as the Methusafeelia."

She sighed. Of course all of his reasoning made sense. It was irritating though, because she had really wanted to spend the day making up for the previous two. "You're right. We should touch base."

"Good," he answered, giving her a grin.

"Now get dressed," she commanded. "I'll imagine you take twice as long as I do to get ready, what with all that hair." He chuckled and closed the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Torchwood was certainly more frenzied that day. When they laid eyes on the Doctor, clad in his army green suit and overcoat, the specialists swarmed him. "You're the one who can communicate with the ant aliens, yeah?"

"Methusafeelia," he corrected, before answering their questions in the affirmative. "I'm adequate."

"Good. You need to speak with the ones we've captured. Our translators are not sophisticated enough to grasp the language on a high enough level."

He looked to Rose, who shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence. "You should help, if you can."

He nodde, before jerking her against him for a quick hug. "I'll be back as soon I can. Maybe we can still grab a coffee."

"Maybe," she said. "I think I'm gonna go find Jake. Find me when you finish."

"Okay," he grinned at her before being dragged away.

Rose pulled out her mobile and keyed in the speed dial number for Jake. She assumed that he'd be in his office, right next to her own, but she wanted to be sure before descending into the bowels of Torchwood.

"Hello," the familiar voice answered.

"Hey Jake," she said slowly, hoping that he wasn't still angry with her from yesterday.

"Hello Rose," he said stiffly. So he was still irritated.

She sighed, "Don't be angry with me anymore, Jake," she pleaded. "I’ve got some stuff to tell you."

"Fine," he replied. "First, I was hoping you'd know where Micks is. I haven't seen him since you got back. I was worried that maybe he was mad at me."

She swallowed. "Well, that's kinda what I want to talk to you about. Where are you?"

Just as she'd thought, he was down in his office, having just left the holding cell where the Methusafeelia were being kept. She took a breath and worried about how he was going to take the news.

When she found him, he had one of the alien's electro-tridents. She shuddered in memory of the welts she now carried on her back. Before the Doctor had woken up, she had reapplied the ointment to the less angry looking burns, unfortunately by herself. The sight of her injuries' inflictor brought an uncomfortable heat from the wounds on her back. The Doctor, on the other hand, with his superior healing skills, had been almost completely healed that morning. Rose had been jealous of the lack of irritation on his chest and back.

Jake seemed to feel her eyes on him, because he turned after a few moments.

He greeted her with a hug, and an apology for blowing up at her on scene. "But you were still being a stupid bint," he said jokingly.

"Hey," she said in mock indignation. She knew he was right. She had made a stupid move out there and now her skin, and her job, was paying the price.

"Was the Doctor all right," he asked after a moment.

"Yeah, he has these stupid regenerative abilities that heal him loads faster than us lowly humans."

"Figures," Jake answered.

There was a white elephant in the room as he waited for her to begin to explain about Mickey. Slowly, she searched for the words. Rose didn't know exactly what had gone on with him, because the Doctor had been the one to see him off. She, of course, hadn't been paying any attention to what Mickey was doing. True, he had mentioned in passing that he was considering staying in that universe, but Rose had been too tied up in her own plans with the Doctor to really consider what he had meant and to really think about who it would be affecting. "Jake... about Mickey..."

"Is he okay," Jake asked, jumping immediately to conclusions based on the gloomy tone of her voice.

"Yeah," she answered instantly. "He's fine. At least, I think he is."

Jake looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Rose bit her lip, taking a breath. "Well... you see Jake...Micks didn't come back with us."

Jake's expression became one of stunned horror. "What," he asked, as if he hadn't wanted to hear her right. "Why?"

"The... the Doctor said something about him wanting to make his own way in the world. You know, put down his own mark."

"So, he _chose_ to stay behind. Even though I...even though he had things to come back to?" Jake's face began to crumple, and, to Rose's horror, he made a sound in the back of his throat that was soon accompanied by hot tears.

Rose moved forward to pull Jake's head down onto her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry. I know what he meant to you."

Jake made loud sucking noises as he sought to restrain himself. "I just... thought..."

"I know," she cooed. "I know what it's like to lose the person you love." And she did. She had had this exact reaction to losing the Doctor once she had realized that he truly could never get her back.

She held Jake for several long minutes as he cried. He had never done such a thing before and this newfound vulnerability make Rose feel closer to her partner than she had ever felt. She continued to pet the spiked blond hair and coo comforting phrases to him until he managed to gain his composure. When he finally did, he stepped back from her and turned away. "I-I've got work to do," he said gruffly, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his black jumper.

"Okay," she said softly. If he needed space, she'd be the first to give it to him. "I'm going to go try and find the Doctor. I'll have my mobile if you need me."

He nodded and made a noncommittal sound before she turned and made her way out of the office.

***  
Meanwhile, the Doctor was standing before a cell housing three disarmed Methusafeelia who were clicking angry threats at him.

"Look," the Doctor said in their guttural tongue as the rest of the Torchwood staff looked on in interest. "You can't just come to earth, zap people with your tridents, and expect not to be overtaken by the rest of the humans."

"We are here for resources," the leader of the three answered impatiently.

The Doctor gave a snort of derision. "Resources, eh? Like what? They're not just going to hand themselves over for your feeding pleasures. This planet is not a buffet, and these humans are not strong enough to withstand an onslaught of pain."

"Our readings have shown that one of the flesh walkers is actually able to donate enough mana to feed three of our kind. They are also much smaller and intellectually inferior. Therefore, we should have the ability to easily overtake them."

The Doctor was growing red faced. "This planet is under the protection of the Shadow Proclamation! You can't invade it. Not without a full scale war on your hands!"

The Methusafeelia clicked to each other rapidly before the leader again turned to the Doctor. "Our readings have shown that this planet has been successfully invaded four times by weaker races, and twice more by stronger. As for the 'shadow proclamation,' we have never heard of such a thing."

The Doctor looked confused. "No Shadow Proclamation? Surely this universe has one. The interstellar and interplanetary police force? The alien 'fuzz' so to speak."

They blinked their many eyes in confusion. "There is no organization of that name in the galaxy we come from."

 _Oh, that's bad_ , the Doctor thought, sliding his gaze over to the confused humans watching his exchange with the aliens. All these stronger alien races floating around and no one to protect the weak? Very bad indeed.

"Well, you can't feed here. This planet is a lot more scrappy than you think and we will stop you if you attempt an invasion," he fixed them with the look that had earned him the nickname the Oncoming Storm. He didn't care if he was only half Gallifreyan now, he would still do everything in his power to protect Rose's planet. It was the last planet he had.

There was more chatter, before the creatures said, finally, "We wish permission to return to our ship, so that we may go in search of another planet's resources. The Queen has ordered us away."

"Oh, you want permission to return to the ship that you've _stolen_ ," the Doctor countered. "Don't try mock confusion. I've seen all sorts of planets and Qwedega is one of them. That's their ship out there on the Thames. What have you done to them?"

"Theirs was the first planet that we invaded and conquered," the Methusafeelian explained matter of factly. "As our lady the Queen continues to expand the Methusafeelian race, we continue to hunger ever more. The fish people have become ours and they do our bidding."

"They 'do your bidding,'" the Doctor echoed in disgust. "And you repay them with pain and cruelty. There's a word for that. It's called slavery."

"Correct," the alien answered, without so much as a hint of remorse. "That is the way of the conquerors and the conquered. Now, will you deny us passage back to our ship?"

The Doctor sighed. Without a Shadow Proclamation and without a TARDIS with which to follow them back to their planet, he could, unfortunately, do nothing to save the peaceful Qwadegans. He could, however, deal with the Methusafeelia in such a manner that would send them off with no intention of returning (he hoped). He gave a final clicking reply. "I need to speak to my associates. Please wait a moment."

They nodded assent before they went back to conversing amongst themselves. From the way that their antenna quivered, the Doctor also knew that they were using their telepathic connection to speak to their queen, the female that had given birth to each of the beings in the colony. Said connection could last over infinite distance and even through time travel, much like Gallifreyans. The sight of them sent a pang to his heart as he remembered his people. Nostalgia and pain came and went at this point, but he still sometimes wished that he had had the others to talk to. Now, however, he wondered if he'd even be able to touch their minds, being half human.

He shook his head. The humans were his people now, and, though he'd never have such an intimate connection with them, it was comforting to think that he at least had a planet. True, he was the only one of his kind--the only Meta-Crisis--but he had people who at least carried related DNA, unlike before.

He turned to the Torchwood officers, scientists, and diplomats, who were waiting expectantly for him to explain his findings. "They...er... want to go back to their ship. To leave. I've made it clear that they will not find what they're searching for here and that they should just go."

"Is it safe to let them go," a diplomat ventured.

He thought for a moment. From what he recalled about the race, they were not overly skilled at deception. And he couldn't imagine the queen risking her colony for one planet when there were many that could be more easily captured. "I... think so," he replied finally.

And so, the issue was left for them to discern. The Doctor bid the team goodbye and went off in search of Rose. He was ready to spend time with her. He had wanted to spend a few days with her, just the two of them, but it seemed that Jackie Tyler was determined to keep him from it. Maybe he could persuade Rose to cancel dinner.

As he rounded the corner and informed the lift that he wished to go up, the door dinged open. To his surprise, he found Rose there, probably on her way to find him or at least wait outside the holding cells to catch him when he finished.

"Doctor," she said, startled. "You all done?"

"Yup," he replied, popping the p as he stepped into the lift with her.

"Everything go all right with the Methusafeelia," she asked.

"They're deciding whether or not they should let them leave," he replied. "I, personally, think we should get them off of Earth as soon as possible. Nasty lot, they are."

"I remember," she said, lifting her shirt a bit to reveal one of the burns, which had faded to a less angry pink as she healed.

He looked at her. "Everything go all right with Jake?"

She bit her lip, silent for several moments. "Rose," he questioned.

"He... um... didn't take it so well," she responded finally. "In fact, it crushed him. When I told him that Mickey had _chosen_ to stay behind, that was the worst." Her own doe eyes filled with tears as she remembered the encounter. "I've never seen him like that."

He reached out to take her hand. "Are _you_ okay?" He hadn't even considered that Mickey's choice had negatively affected her. He had been, after all, her best mate for a long while and she had always talked about him being there for her.

There was something bothering Rose about the whole thing, just not what the Doctor thought. "Just... you know, brought back memories, is all."

There was a pain the Doctor's chest as her tears intensified. Without thinking, he reached over and pressed the emergency stop button on the lift's control panel. When they came to a stop between floors, he pulled her to him, where she cried in earnest against his shoulder. He felt tears begin to well in his own eyes as he, too, remembered their separation. Sure, he had tried to forget about her, had filled his ship with companions, but nothing had dulled the pain that he had felt every time that he had passed that permanently locked door on the TARDIS. He'd only gone into her room once or twice after he'd lost her, because being around her things was just too painful. Yet, she had always managed to force her way into his thoughts in the thick of a fight or in the excitement of time traveling with Donna or Martha. He fleetingly remembered Jenny, the daughter created from his DNA on the planet where the war between humans and Hath had been brewing. She had reminded him of Rose--young, and eager to see new worlds. In the spur of the moment, when he had looked at her, she seemed as though she could have been Rose's child. Something inside of him had always wanted that, despite the impossibility. Gallifreyan DNA was not compatible with that of a human and Rose was much too fragile to handle the emotional and mental obstacles that came with bearing such a child, were it plausible. Now, he had the whole world stretched out before him and he wanted it all with this fragile little human. He would grow old with her,and he would die with her, and it would be a cheerful reckoning because he could have her now. He'd never have to watch her age as he stayed young, never wait for the time when she would want to leave the TARDIS because it was too hard to look at him as he didn't change. He was ready for anything, and, as he held her, he tried to transfer into the embrace the love and the hope that he had for her and for what they would be.

Rose gasped for air after a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling back to look at him. "I feel like all I've been doing is crying since we got back to this universe."

He smiled. "Rose, you don't have to worry about that pain ever again. I'll never go anywhere if you can't come with me. I'll never leave you."

The words wrapped around her like a well loved sweater. As she pushed back against him, his arms fit perfectly around her waist. His head fell to rest on the top of her hair. "I love you, Rose," he whispered softly against the golden strands.

She inhaled his scent, taking comfort in the familiarity of it. Her hands slipped beneath his long beige overcoat to find the heat of his body through the jacket of his suit. With his new clothes and the specs that he was currently wearing, he looked every inch the Doctor. So painfully familiar. She pulled her head up, and, without hesitation, craned her neck to place her lips on his.

His eyes widened in surprise. He was always surprised when Rose kissed him or touched him. As her lips grew more persistent, he could feel what she was giving to him. _This_ him. As her mouth pressed against his and her arms held his waist tightly, he felt loved by her. She was giving him what she had saved for his Time Lord self all those days. There was acceptance and there was comfort behind her lips. He loved kissing Rose, and he loved all that she was to him.

As he realized his own need and love for her--a love that he had repressed since that day in the Prime Minister's office at Downing Street, when he had had to choose between losing the world or losing her--he passed his tongue over her lower lip, asking for entrance. Rose gladly gave it to him, allowing him the reassurance that the kiss was for him, not something that she was merely taking for comfort. It was not a frenzied attempt to prove oneself, nor was it a desperate plea for acceptance. It was about time for a kiss like this.

He began to memorize her mouth, her gums, her tongue. She sighed against his lips, and her hands came out of the overcoat to lock around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape.

Finally, when he had finished ravaging her mouth, she took over. Kissing the Doctor was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her breath came fast and she pushed her body flush against his.

They stayed like that for many long moments, until there was the sound of a buzzer from the speaker on the console.

"Is everything all right lift number four," the voice of the maintenance receptionist asked.

"Er..." the Doctor said with an uncomfortable cough of a laugh. "We're fine."

"Did you need help with the lift," the receptionist ventured.

"'S'all right, Ralph," Rose cut in, hitting the button that would allow them to continue their ascent.

"Sure thing, Miss Tyler."

When the doors opened and the two stepped through them, Gawain was also on his way to his car in the garage. He took one look at Rose, her lips swollen and her eyes locked on the Doctor as she held his hand, and gave a laugh. "Well, someone's just been snogged. Pretty thoroughly, if I'm not mistaken."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Rose giggled and looked at the Doctor.

"I'm right, aren't I? That's why the lift wasn't working, right? You're lucky that I like working on my fantastic bum."

Rose laughed again and the Doctor gave her a look, silencing her. "Hey, Gawain," he said. "I'm really sorry about the other night in the pub. I'd had a few too many."

Gawain nodded. "Don't worry about it, Doc. Happens to me all the time. I always get jealous when Harry talks to other guys." He looked over at Rose, who had gone solemn. "But, I'd say that you have nothing to worry about. I've never met a woman willing to wait years for one man. She's a keeper. Not to mention, she looked right at home in your arms."

The Doctor put an arm around Rose's shoulders. "Yeah, she certainly is a keeper," he grinned, teasing her.

Gawain smiled too before heading to his car, bidding them goodbye.

A few moments later, the town car that Rose had phoned before meeting the Doctor pulled up. When she and the Doctor slid into the back, he turned to her. "Rose," he said, softly, stroking the webbing between her thumb and index finger.

"Yeah," she said, her voice breathy.

"You think that we could...postpone dinner," he asked hopefully.

She smiled, tongue coming to rest between her teeth in the expression that had enflamed him even in his ninth regeneration when he'd first met her. "I dunno," she teased. "Mum'll be disappointed."

"I think that she'll understand," he said.

"Well, what did you want to do instead?" The innuendo hung clear in the air.

The Doctor smirked. "Is the newest Harry Potter movie out yet?"

"As a matter of fact, Deathly Hallows Part Two comes out tonight at midnight. Tony threw a fit when mum told him he wasn't old enough to go to the premiere."

He pushed out a bottom lip. "Am I old enough to go to the premiere, Rose?"

She chuckled. "I dunno. Is 948 old enough to watch PG-13 movies on Gallifrey?"

He thought for a moment. "You know, we didn't really have movies that I can remember that well. There were the occasional war films, a bit like in World War II, but nothing else."

"War films?"

"About the Time War. You know, trying to recruit the young Gallifreyans to the effort. I was older, around eight hundred, so they weren't really geared towards me, but I saw a couple. The War had just started." He went silent. He didn't like thinking of the Time War, especially not in this regeneration. He had used his eighth and ninth bodies for that type of angst.

Rose gave his hand a squeeze. She remembered the pain that memories of the war brought. It had taken his home, his race, all that he had known and grown up with. She also recalled how, in a rare moment of weakness in the first form in which she had known him, he had entered her room in the TARDIS to rest his head on her shoulder. He hadn't cried or anything like that, just sat. It had been the night after she had first encountered a Dalek and had convinced him not to kill it. Her nineteen year old self had never seen such turmoil, never seen a man with such hatred in him, and never watched that hatred drain away to leave behind a vulnerable, lonely shell. It had been then when she realized he hadn't just asked her on the TARDIS for a bit of fun. He had needed her just as much as she had needed him. She had freed him from the dark loneliness, and he had shown her that she was more than just a shopgirl. She had carried that with her and it was a large part of the reason that losing him hadn't killed her.

Now, she wanted to change the subject. There was no need for him to dwell on such demons. "Well, I guess Harry Potter it is. I should warn you though, here it's Harriet."

He snapped out of his thoughts. "No," he said, refusing to believe it.

She nodded. "The story is exactly the same, and most of the key characters are the same gender, but not the 'Golden Trio.'"

"You can't change Harry Potter," he exclaimed.

"Well, here it was always like that. I was upset about it at first, too. When Mickey brought me to the Half Blood Princess, I almost lost it right there in the theater."

"Princess," he gaped.

She nodded. "Severine Snape. Harriet Potter, Herman Granger, and Robin Weasley."

"This is an outrage! I dunno if I can sit through this movie!"

Rose gave a loud snort. "Doctor, just give it a chance. I actually kind of like it better. Harriet is a much less of a prat than Harry in a lot of respects. And the actors who play in it will be there tonight. We can meet them if you want. I have all kinds of connections in this universe. It'll be Harry Potter like you've never seen it before."

"I'll say," he said, crossing his arms in mock derision.

The idea of taking the Doctor to this movie was becoming more and more appealing to Rose as she thought about it. "Come on, Doctor," she wheedled. "Go see Harriet Potter with me."

He took in her mock pout and had a sudden urge to suck the protruding lower lip into his mouth, as she had done to him in the kitchen that morning. However, he hardly thought that the back of a town car was an appropriate place. Heaving a sigh, he nodded. "For you, I will see this abomination of a film. You'd better be glad I like you so much, because very little can come between my love of Harry Potter and me."

"Oh, I am fortunate," she simpered. "And I have just the dress for it. In the meantime, what should we do?"

He thought for a moment. "Maybe get a coffee? Ooh, and one of those bear claw pastries. I love those. But I also like cinnamon buns. Which do you prefer."

"Buns. Definitely," she answered. She'd grinned more times today than she had in the past month, and she had to say it was a wonderful change. "Let me just call Mum."


End file.
